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Kenji stared at the paper. For the first time in his career, his eyes stung. He signed it with a shaking hand.

He made three calls. The first was to a temple down the street, which offered Hana a monk’s quarters for two weeks. The second was to a local tool library, which pledged a potter’s wheel and a small kiln. The third was to Hana’s mother, whose number Hana had lost in the fire, but which Kenji had saved in his encrypted client file under “Emergency Kin.” iori insurance

When Kenji arrived at dawn, she was sitting on the curb in her pajamas, clutching a single unglazed cup she’d grabbed on the way out. Her face was a mask of shock. Kenji stared at the paper