The morning sun over Kyoto painted the tiled rooftops with a golden hue, and a soft breeze rustled the curtains of the newly acquired traditional villa in the Gion district. Today was special—not a wedding ceremony, not a government affair, but something deeply rooted in gratitude and spiritual harmony. Phuby and Hana had decided to hold a small blessing meal, inviting both their families, close friends, and a few local members of the Kyoto mosque.
The air inside the house was filled with the fragrance of freshly grilled fish, steaming rice, miso soup, and various Japanese dishes arranged on low wooden tables in tatami rooms. Phuby had ordered both halal Japanese dishes and a few Indonesian classics—gudeg, rendang, and even tahu goreng—delivered from a specialty Indonesian restaurant near Kyoto Station. It was a fusion of flavors, just like their union: a blend of cultures, traditions, and love.
Mrs. Wulan and Aiko-san were bustling in the kitchen together, laughing like old friends. Somehow, even with their language barrier, they'd found a rhythm. Google Translate helped occasionally, but mostly it was just instinct, smiles, and mutual respect. They both doted on their children, and that connection alone was enough.
"I never thought I'd be chopping onions next to a Japanese woman while preparing food for my son's blessing in Kyoto," Mrs. Wulan said with a chuckle, wiping her eyes.
Aiko giggled. "And I never imagined helping a daughter-in-law who used to be Buddhist... marry a Sundanese man."
The imam, a kind man from Malaysia who worked closely with Kyoto's Muslim community, arrived just after Dhuhr prayer. He wore a soft smile and held a small gift bag—a beautifully bound Qur'an in Japanese and Indonesian.
Phuby and Hana greeted him at the door, bowing politely.
"Assalamu'alaikum, ustadz," Phuby said.
"Wa'alaikumussalam," he replied warmly. "MashaAllah, congratulations to you both."
As the imam entered the house, everyone gathered around the large tatami room where the blessing meal would be held. Hana's best friends from university were already seated, curious and respectful. They had never seen a blessing like this before, and they were excited to be part of it.
Before the meal, the imam gave a short dua (supplication), asking for barakah in the couple's marriage, harmony between their families, and a prosperous future. Hana closed her eyes and clasped her hands in front of her, deeply moved. She understood most of the Arabic phrases now after weeks of studying alongside Phuby, and even if she didn't, the meaning reached her heart.
The meal began, and laughter soon filled the room.
Phuby sat beside Hana, reaching over to place some rendang onto her plate. "You need to try this one. It's spicy, but not killer level."
Hana smirked. "After surviving your sambal that day in Cirebon, I fear nothing."
Their inside joke made Hana's friends laugh. One of them, Riko, leaned forward. "Is it true? You bought two houses already?"
Hana grinned. "One house and one farmland. Long story. My husband is... resourceful."
Phuby gave an awkward laugh. "Lucky, actually."
He noticed the curious glances from some of her friends and shifted the topic. "We're thinking of building a garden house in the countryside land. Maybe even a small inn one day."
"That's romantic," said Yuki, another friend. "If you do, I'm booking the first room."
Throughout the afternoon, guests came and went. Some of the mosque community members stayed to chat, offering advice on navigating inter-cultural marriages, and sharing personal stories. The warmth in the air wasn't just from the tea and food—it was from the harmony between two families that had once been strangers.
Later in the afternoon, Phuby pulled Hana aside as they stood in the courtyard beneath a blooming sakura tree.
"You know," he said quietly, "this... this feeling today—it's why I bought that land. I don't want just a place to live. I want to build a space where moments like this can happen again and again. With friends. With family. With peace."
Hana nodded slowly, tears welling in her eyes. "And I want to be by your side for all of it."
He kissed her forehead gently. "Then we better start sketching blueprints."
From the sliding door, Mrs. Wulan and Aiko peeked again, giggling as they recorded the tender moment. Neither Phuby nor Hana noticed—again.
Back inside, the imam left a final word for them before departing.
"Marriage is a journey. You two come from different cultures, but you share faith, respect, and love. That is stronger than blood. Keep building, together."
As evening fell, the house grew quiet. The guests left one by one, and the family members began cleaning up. The traditional villa now felt lived in—more than a structure. It had become a memory.
Before going to bed, Phuby sat on the edge of the futon and opened his system screen one more time. A small new alert pulsed softly.
> 🏠 Shop refresh in 5 days
🛒 New properties available soon in: Kyoto, Tokyo, Cirebon
💰 Current balance: Rp20.358.000.000
He smiled. The system might have given him tools—but it was Hana who gave him purpose.
---