The morning in Kyoto was warm enough to leave the windows open without thinking twice. Sunlight slid past the thin curtains and fell in soft, crooked shapes across the wooden floor. Alecia sat curled on the couch, knees pulled in, her coffee cooling between her hands. From the street below came the faint sound of someone sweeping, the steady scrape of a broom on stone.

In the kitchen, Kennedy worked without much noise, only the occasional knock of a spoon against a bowl or the hiss of ...