A/N: Hey guys...So I've been AWOL for a few months. Mostly because school started, then exams decided to sneak up on me. But, I'm back now that exams are over! *happy dance*

Katana has a pretty in-depth backstory from the comics, but absolutely none in Suicide Squad. I tried to follow some of the comics timeline, but probably strayed from it, considered I'm not that familiar with it.

Also, if the conversations in this chapter seem a little formal or stilted, it's because I'm only familiar with very rudimentary Japanese, which is unbearably formal.

All rights belong to David Ayer and DC Comics.

Chapter 4 – Introducing Katana

Maseo was remembering. He remembered how his older brother would gently hold his hand and take him for a walk whenever their parents would argue. He remembered the way his wife's eyes shone with unshed tears when she walked down the aisle. He remembered the joy he felt when he discovered that she was pregnant, and his astonishment when it turned out to be twins.

But the memories were fuzzy and oddly distorted. Maseo clung to them with desperation, but they were becoming more slippery and confused. Memories that weren't his were mixing in with them, faces and voices that he didn't recognize entering his mind.

Maseo knew where the unknown memories were coming from – the other souls trapped in Soultaker with him. Their consciousnesses were rubbing against each other, memories shared between them. But Maseo tried to ignore the other souls. There was only one thing that he was interested in – the voice of his wife.

Her voice would occasionally boom throughout Soultaker. The memories of his wife were slowly fading, but whenever he heard her voice, the memories would come flooding back. The feeling of her lips against his, her dark eyes, her skilled hands. But whenever her voice receded, the memories would fade.

And he was left listening to the sound of screaming souls.

The first time Maseo had seen Tatsu, he was going for a run through the countryside with his brother. The fall wind had shaken the trees that grew along the pathway, sending bright leaves fluttering through the air. The brothers' hair was windswept and their cheeks pink with exertion. Takeo grumbled as the path turned upwards, winding up towards the top of the mountain.

It had taken Maseo a good hour to convince his brother to go running. Takeo preferred lifting weights at the gym, but Maseo liked running. He loved feeling the pavement pounding beneath his feet and the wind whipping across his face. It felt like being free.

The two brothers ran up the hill, their breath creating trails of fog in the crisp fall air. On the top of the hill sat a temple, its tall roof just visible above the trees. The brothers followed the path up and around the temple. Its burnished roof and bright red pillars shone in the sunlight. Wooden floors had been swept carefully and washed so that they sparkled. A few priests tended to the rock garden or sat in quiet contemplation. None of them registered Takeo and Maseo as they ran past.

They circled around a corner of the temple and the quiet swishing of cloth came to their ears. A woman stood on the porch, a wooden sword held loosely in her hands. Thick black hair was plaited down her back. She was wrapped in an autumn red shirt and a black hakuma fell down to her feet, which shuffled quietly across the porch. The woman's eyes were closed.

Maseo paused, slowing to a walk.

The woman took one slow breath, then began to move. To Maseo, it looked like dancing. Her feet created complex patterns on the wood, her sword cleaving through the air. The woman moved with such deadly grace that Maseo felt his breath leave him. Her movements revealed a beauty and precision that he had never seen before.

The woman twisted the sword above her head and brought it down with a final definite motion. She exhaled and opened her eyes, noticing Maseo and Takeo for the first time. Her eyes crinkled as she smiled. She waved them over, sliding her sword into a loop on her hakuma.

Maseo walked up to her and bowed low. "I am Maseo Yamashiro."

The girl lowered her head. "Tatsu Toro."

Maseo realized that Takeo wasn't at his side, so he glanced over his shoulder. Takeo was still standing in the middle of the path, staring transfixed at Tatsu.

Their twin children were born several years into their marriage. Two beautiful girls: Yuki and Reiko. Soon they were crawling and Maseo teased Tatsu that she'd finally be able to teach them to art of sword fighting, so that they could carry on her family's tradition. Tatsu had laughed at that, but he could see the yearning in her eyes to see their daughters wielding swords. She was already letting them play in the dojo and watch whenever she taught martial art lessons to the men who traveled across Japan to learn from her.

Their daughters had been playing in the dojo under the watchful eye of their nursemaid when a servant informed Maseo that he had a visitor. Maseo went out to the porch, where he laughed loudly and hugged his brother, who stood awkwardly on the pathway.

Maseo pulled away, clapping his brother soundly on the shoulder. "Takeo, it's been so long! Please, come in. Make yourself at home."

Maseo lead Takeo through their home and into the sitting room, where cushions sat around a long wooden table. Several ornate bowls decorated the tables, along with an expensive Chinese vase filled with blooming sakura blossoms. Maseo and Takeo sat down across from each other. Maseo ordered several plates of delicacies from a nearby servant, but when they arrived, Takeo refused to touch them.

Now that they were sitting, Maseo could inspect his brother. They had barely spoken these past few years. Maseo had been busy with Tatsu and the kids, and Takeo had disappeared, doing who knows what. Tattoos now ran down Takeo's arms, and Maseo could see a few creeping up his neck above the collar of his shirt. Dark rings stood out under his eyes, and the muscles under his shirt were more defined than Maseo remembered. He wasn't the youthful young man that Maseo remembered. His brother had grown up. Maseo wondered idly if he looked different to his brother after all these years.

Takeo sat formally across from him, but his arms were tense and Maseo guessed that he was clenching his fists beneath the table. His brother had never been very good at hiding his emotions.

Finally, Takeo spoke. "We must have words, brother. It's been many years, but I've finally come to realize that you have stolen something from me. Something that is rightfully mine."

Maseo was astonished. "Brother, I do not know what you think it is that I have stolen from you, but please, speak its name and I shall have it delivered to you immediately."

A muscle ticked in Takeo's cheek. "Tatsu. Tatsu Toro."

As Takeo's words sunk it, Maseo sputtered. "What…surely I misheard…"

"You did not mishear. Tatsu Toro is rightfully mine, and I am here to collect."

"Takeo, she is my wife."

Takeo sprang to his feet, startling Maseo with the viciousness of the action. He paced along back and forth through the room, barely looking at Maseo.

He muttered, almost as though he'd forgotten Maseo was in the room with him. "She should never have married you. It was our families that pushed you two together. She never really loved you. Her heart always belonged to me!"

At that, Maseo stood stiffly, his voice brimming with withheld anger. "That's enough, Takeo. Tatsu is not, and never was, yours to claim. Leave now, before you say something else you'll regret."

Takeo sneered at his brother's words, a grimace that marred his good looks. "Something I'll regret? You think I haven't regretted these past years, watching the two of you being happy together? Watching her have your children? Watching you live the life that should have belonged to me?"

Maseo's dark eyes caught and pinned his brother's frenzied ones. "You are no longer welcome in this house. Until you return and apologize for your words, you shall not step another foot into this household."

For a moment, Takeo's eyes seemed to shimmer with remorse, and he opened his mouth to speak. But instead, he snapped his jaw shut, his teeth grinding together. Under his brother's stern gaze, he stalked out of the room.

He took one last look at Maseo, then slammed the door behind him, letting his final words hang in the air.

"I will have what's mine."

It was dark when the assassin snuck quietly across the well-tended garden. He had bribed the servants who watched the house that night so that they would abandon their posts. Several yakuza members surrounded the Yamashiro property, standing sentinel.

The assassin slunk through the corridors, bearing a long silver scar that stretched across his jaw, giving him a permanent sneer. A sword pressed gently against his hip with each step. Its scabbard was without ornament, unobtrusively plain, but still it emanated an indescribable power that made anyone in its presence shiver and whisper a blessing to protect their souls. The assassin loved his sword. It had been a gift from his boss when he entered into the Yakuza, and with it at his side, nobody dared to disobey him. He passed an open window and a shaft of moonlight hit the sword, revealing a series of kanji etched into the side. Soultaker, they read.

The assassin opened each door as he came upon them. But he didn't find his quarry until he reached the end of the corridor. The door slid open with a quiet swish. Lying on the tatami was Maseo, his breathing deep and even. His two daughters lay next to him, both fast asleep.

The assassin grimaced. He didn't like hurting children. He had in the past - when it was part of a job - but it always left a sour taste in his mouth.

A lantern sat in one corner of the room, a single orange flame sending soft light across the tatami. The flame allowed the assassin to see into the recesses of the room, where several swords were resting. They were battered and well-used, but still sharp enough to kill.

The assassin moved silently forward on the tatami until he stood over Maseo. He bowed and whispered a quiet prayer so that he would be forgiven for the sin he was about to commit. Then, the assassin unsheathed his sword slowly. He tried to let the steel slide out silently, but this was the first time he had tried an assassination with this sword, and it was longer than he was comfortable with. As the last bit of metal left the scabbard, it rubbed against the side, and made a quiet shing.

Maseo's eyes whipped open. The assassin tried to hurry and plunge the blade into his quarry's heart, but Maseo reacted faster than he thought possible. Sudden adrenaline made him instantly awake as he grabbed a sword and crouched in front of his daughters. The assassin circled Maseo, but he stayed stubbornly between the assassin and his children. He would not budge.

Sentiment, the assassin thought.

The two met with a clash that shook the room, their swords fighting for dominance. They cut and sliced and parried, neither able to get the best of the other. The assassin was strong and well-trained, but Maseo was the husband of the famous Tatsu, and his skills were just as polished.

With a surge of strength, the assassin pushed Maseo back. He stumbled for a moment, instantly regaining his footing, but it was enough. The assassin brought his sword up and around, cutting deep into Maseo's bicep. Maseo stumbled away, and his ankle caught on the lantern, knocking it over.

The crash woke the girls, who looked bewildered up at their father and the mysterious man. One of them began to wail, a shriek of pain and confusion. Maseo shielded them with his body, the sword pointed at the assassin. But his muscles were quivering and his kimono was turning red, the blood seeping out of his wound.

None of them noticed the flames from the lantern lick along the tatami, setting it on fire.

The assassin flicked his sword lazily through the air, confident that Maseo would soon be dead. He was already thinking of the sake and company that he would be enjoying thanks to the money he would collect from this assassination.

In one sudden, desperate motion, Maseo flung his sword at the assassin. It went wide, but it was distraction enough that Maseo could grab his daughters and run out of the room. The assassin cursed and gave chase down the corridor.

But Maseo was injured and weighed down by his crying children, and the assassin was ambitious and athletic. Maseo could hear the assassin's footsteps pounding behind him. Maseo yanked open a pantry closet and unceremoniously dumped his daughters on a shelf, then slammed the door, leaving them whimpering in the darkness. Maseo kept running, leading the assassin away from his children.

The only thing that kept Maseo going was the adrenaline pumping through his veins. He stumbled out into the yard, the moonlight illuminating the scene with cold silver. The assassin's footsteps grew closer.

Maseo knew the assassin was right behind him. But he was unable to go on. His lifeblood was leaving him and, with the adrenaline gone, he was in agony.

The footsteps stopped behind him. Maseo whispered a quiet blessing to his gods to keep his girls safe. The tip of the assassin's sword nudged between his shoulder blades, the metal cold against his flesh.

He was in so much pain. His mind was brimming with agony. He would gladly welcome death if it meant the end to this pain that overwhelmed his body and mind.

Maseo took one last look around the garden that was bathed in silver moonlight. There was the rock where he would sit to paint the scenery. There was the flowerbed that was always blooming with colours, though now it seemed strangely uniform in the moonlight. There was the koi pond where his daughters had once tried to catch the fish swimming beneath the water.

And there was Tatsu standing on the garden path, her dark eyes wide. She wore her travelling clothes, her collection of swords in a sling over her shoulder. Their eyes locked and Maseo could see the confusion and fear in her eyes as she looked over his shoulder at the assassin standing behind Maseo, the sword tip pressed against his back.

The three of them stood frozen, a scene struck in stone. Behind the scene, flames flared across the tiled roof, lapping at the air. The fire had spread rapidly, engulfing the rooms in flame and choking the air with black smoke that billowed up into the night sky, blocking out the stars.

With the heat from the flames at his back, the assassin pushed his sword into Maseo's back in one fluid thrust. Maseo felt the cold steel slicing through his flesh, sliding between two ribs. He felt his body jerk, and then his vision blurred as excruciating pain flared across his chest. For a moment, Maseo felt himself falling, his consciousness sliding out of his own body and along the length of the blade. His eyes emptied. Tatsu watched as her husband fell to his knees, then collapsed. Blood blossomed between his shoulder blades, staining the ground.

The assassin shook the sword, spattering blood along the cobblestones. "Takeo sends his regards." A drop of blood landed on Tatsu's cheek.

Tatsu's mind was numb as she looked down at her husband's body, the assassin standing over him. Behind them, red sparks shot up into the sky as the flames consumed their house. Pieces of the roof collapsed inwards, crashing down through the fire. The flames silhouetted the assassin as he brandished his sword over Maseo's body, his scarred face shining in the firelight. Red spread over Tatsu's vision and she found a sword in her hand, the sling forgotten on the ground.

Tatsu charged the assassin. Their blades met, flashing red from the firelight. The assassin's face was pulled taught as he parried; his wrist jarring painfully with each blow. Tatsu was stronger and more skilled than any fighter he had faced before, and her anger gave her strength.

Ashes and embers fell around them as they fought, blades clashing. Anger filled Tatsu, adrenaline flushing through her veins. She pushed the assassin back against the flaming house, their swords creating streaks of silver in the night air. They fought hard, each landing small cuts upon their opponent. The assassin circled Tatsu, forcing her closer to the flames with each blow. The heat licked at Tatsu's back and sweat dripped down her spine. The assassin pivoted unexpectedly, his sword slicing into Tatsu's stomach. She could feel her skin and muscle split beneath the blade, but the pain was dull.

Blood roared in her ears, anger blocking out any rational thought as her sword slashed and thrust. Her body reacted on instinct, and when the assassin's sword came down in a silver arch, Tatsu blocked it and brought her other hand up to grab the assassin's wrist. She twisted with all her might until tendons snapped and bones cracked beneath her fingers. The assassin cried out and dropped the sword. Tatsu caught the falling sword, and in the same movement, stabbed the assassin through the belly with his own sword. Her sword came up and sliced through the assassin's throat. Tatsu found herself pressed up against the assassin. She saw the assassin's astonished eyes emptying as though his soul was being sucked down into the sword. Tatsu stepped back, pulling the sword from flesh with a sickening wet sound.

She stared down at the assassin's body, her arms heavy with exhaustion. Her entire body felt tired, the cut on her stomach twinging. The adrenaline was ebbing from her veins, making her mind slow. Everything seemed numb. She couldn't even feel the heat of the flames that licked at the air inches from her skin. The only thing she could feel was the hilt of the assassin's sword in her grip. The sword felt heavier than usual and unnaturally well-balanced. It almost felt like a living thing in her hand. For a moment, she thought she could feel a gentle pulse in the hilt. A whisper nudged against her consciousness, a wisp of a voice she could barely make out. It sounded like her daughter's names.

The whisper shook Tatsu into awareness. She stared into the flaming house, her lungs choking from the smoke. Yuki. Reiko. Where were they?

The fire, the familiar voice whispered. They're in the fire.

Forgetting the cut on her side, forgetting the heat of the flames, forgetting that the house was collapsing around her, Tatsu dived into the fire. She pushed her way through the burning house, her fingers blistering as she kept a grip on the two swords. The black smoke filled her lungs and made her eyes water as she gasped for breath.

The closet. Check the closet. The voice was getting stronger, urging her on.

Tatsu stumbled through the fire, desperately trying to identify her surroundings. She couldn't tell the difference between any of the rooms. Everything was on fire. All she could see was flames and smoke and ash. Something above her cracked, and Tatsu looked up just in time to see a section of the ceiling fall down upon her. Tatsu dived out the way, skidding across a path of embers. She slammed into a wall, the weakened wood splintering on impact. Tatsu fell amoung the flames, one of the swords skittering along the floor away from her. She stumbled towards it, trying to find her sword.

Leave it. The voice insisted, get out of the house.

But the children. Yuki. Reiko. Tatsu tried to speak, but the smoke choked her throat.

No. The voice sounded strained. They…they're lost.

Tatsu stumbled her way through the flames, desperately searching for a way out. A gentle breeze touched her bare skin and Tatsu moved towards it, breaking out into the courtyard. Tatsu fell to her knees, coughing. She crawled away from the house, trying to escape the searing heat given off by the flames.

Tatsu reached the garden and pulled herself up, leaning against a sakura tree. Something was burning, and it wasn't the house. It smelled odd, like singed fabric. And something was smoking, emitting little puffs of smog. Tatsu began pulling off her kimono, until she realized that it wasn't her clothes that were on fire. She quickly grabbed her hair and, using the sword still in her hand, chopped her hair off right above her shoulders. The smoldering locks dropped to the ground around her, the fine black hair dotted with embers.

Tatsu looked back at her burning home – her burning family. Takeo had done this. He ordered the murder of her husband and her children.

Tatsu's grip on the sword tightened, her knuckles turning white. She still held the assassin's sword. Golden kanji was inscribed on the top of the hilt, naming the sword as Soultaker. Shaking with anger, Tatsu pointed the sword towards her burning home.

She swore on Soultaker to remember this moment. She swore to take revenge on Takeo for the death of her family. An odd green aura seemed to glisten around the sword, caressing Tatsu's hand like a mist.

For a moment, Tatsu thought she heard her husband's voice. I love you.

She blinked and the aura disappeared. Tatsu lowered the sword and turned her back on the burning house. She walked away, refusing to look back.

Tatsu crouched in the center of the dojo, panting. Soultaker was clenched in her hand, slick with sweat. She gasped, her lungs desperate for air. Tadashi stood over her, his own sword in hand. Tatsu tried to get to her feet, Soultaker raised as protection, but she stumbled. Her legs felt like weights.

Tadashi sighed and sheathed his sword. "That is enough for now, Tatsu."

"No." Tatsu struggled to her feet. "Keep going. I need to be stronger."

Tadashi shook his head, a smile making the lines around his eyes crinkle. "Well, if you must wield something, let it be this."

He took a broom from the corner of the room and offered it to Tatsu.

Sighing, Tatsu sheathed her sword and took the broom. Tadashi began sweeping from one edge of the tatami and Tatsu from the other so that they would meet in the middle. The beams of sunlight from the high windows caught the dust as it swirled around them, like shining snowflakes.

Tatsu violently moved the broom bristles against the tatami mats, grumbling quietly under her breath.

"Why must you become stronger, Tatsu?" Tadashi asked, his own broom moving with deceptive grace.

"To become a samurai," Tatsu answered.

Tadashi chuckled. "That wasn't my question, child."

Tatsu stiffened, her eyes hard. She continued to sweep the tatami with controlled precision. They finished and returned the brooms to their corner. Afterwards, the teacher and student sat together and sharpened their swords out in the garden that circled the dojo.

Tatsu always enjoyed tending to her weapons. The familiar movement of blade against stone was calming. They sat together in silence, Tadashi's question seemingly forgotten until Tatsu spoke.

Her voice was calm, distant. "I am responsible for my husband's death."

"I was under the impressions that it was the yakuza who burned your home and killed your family."

"The yakuza…their assassin was there under the orders of my brother-in-law. But it shouldn't have happened that way. He believed my husband had a debt to pay – and he ought to have faced him in proper combat, not sent an assassin in the heart of the night."

Tadashi nodded. Debts between brothers almost always led to bloodshed. It was the way of men.

"What debt did he believe owed to him?"

Tatsu's hand slipped, Soultaker shrieking against the stone. Carefully, she continued to sharpen the sword. Her movements were natural and fluid, but there was a tenseness about her muscles that Tadashi recognized. Tatsu was angry. And guilty.

"I...Takeo…my brother-in-law believed that he was in love with me. He believed that I belonged with him, not my husband."

"A man's love for a woman is not the woman's fault. It does not allow him to lay claim to her."

"I love my husband, Tadashi."

Tadashi looked carefully over at his student, moving on to sharpen his dagger. "I was not implying otherwise."

"I loved Takeo too, once."

"The brother-in-law?"

Tatsu nodded. "We courted in secret. The marriage to my husband was planned by our parents. I knew that I would eventually marry him, not Takeo. I believed he knew that as well. Neither of us were willing to be disowned by our families. I did not love my husband when I first married, but I knew that I could grow to love him. But, on my wedding night, Takeo asked me to run away with him. I refused."

Tatsu looked down at the sword in her hand, fighting to blink back tears. She had promised herself that she wouldn't shed a tear – not until she had her revenge. "I refused him, but…I hesitated. He asked and there was a moment where I saw a life living with the man I loved, travelling across Japan together. Not having to worry about familial duties or raising children. So, I hesitated. I believe he took that hesitation to mean that he had a claim on my heart."

Tatsu bowed her head, a single tear dropping onto the blade sitting across her lap. "I am the reason my family is dead."

Tadashi placed a gentle hand on his student's shoulder. "You loved your family."

It wasn't a question, but Tatsu answered anyway. "I love my husband. And my children. I love them so much that I cannot even bare to say their names."

"Do you still love him?" Tadashi asked gently.

Tatsu looked at him with red eyes, a question in her gaze.

"Takeo. You loved him once. Do you still?"

Tadashi watched as Tatsu's face hardened, murder in her eyes. The cold, merciless anger in her expression made Tadashi shiver. He knew what this young woman was capable of.

"Whatever claim he had to my heart disappeared the day he ordered the death of my family. He committed the one sin that I can never forgive."

Tadashi nodded, understanding in his eyes. "And to get your revenge, you must become stronger. Tatsu, your talent is obvious and your skill has only grown over the years. You are already a strong, young woman." Tadashi sheathed his dagger and stood. "Whenever you are ready to spar again, come inside."

Tatsu bowed and watched her teacher return to the dojo, his sword swinging casually at his side. By herself, Tatsu finished sharpening Soultaker and returned the blade to its sheath. She sat for a moment, looking out on the garden. A rock waterfall sat by an outcropping of blossoming trees. The sunlight glittered off the rippling water like fairies dancing over the falls.

Tatsu gently ran her hand along the sword, the familiar feeling comforting. Every time she held Soultaker she felt closer to her husband. It was taken her a while, but Tatsu had begun to suspect that her husband's soul had truly been captured within the shining blade. She had found herself, when she felt most lonely and lost, talking to the sword. And, when her mind was calm, Tatsu was almost certain that she heard her husband's voice speaking back to her.

Trapped inside the sword, Maseo was losing his mind. Not that he had much of a mind to lose, now that his memories were warping and becoming confused. The other souls in the sword would whisper and yell and overlap to the point that their voices became nothing but a confusion of screams. He could only guess how long the whispering souls had been trapped in the sword, as their voices seemed to dim with age. Maseo worried that soon his own voice would become nothing but a whisper. Even the ones that yelled refused to communicate with Tatsu when she held the sword – they simply screamed for vengeance.

Maseo let his mind wander, floating through the stream of souls. He could hear Tatsu's voice, but it was far off and dim. Her familiar, lilting tones came closer and Maseo focused his energy on her voice. It suddenly echoed through the sword and Maseo realized that she was answering questions that he couldn't hear. She was talking about him – how she believed that she was responsible for his death.

Maseo listened, astonished, as Tatsu told a story that he had never dreamed of. He hadn't known that Takeo had been so in love with Tatsu. He hadn't known that Tatsu felt the same. It shook him to know that Tatsu had loved his brother. But she also loved him. He knew that with every ounce of his being. He had seen that love in Tatsu's eyes every morning when they woke up together, their limbs intertwined. She would turn her head and smile up at him. They had loved each other, he was sure of it. And they had both loved their daughters.

Maseo heard Tatsu's voice break and he felt something wet land on the blade. Tatsu was crying. Maseo felt the presence of whoever Tatsu was talking to disappear, leaving Tatsu alone with Soultaker. It was silent for a moment, the other souls quieting as Tatsu stroked the sword.

Then she spoke. "I'm sorry, Maseo."

The sorrow in her voice broke Maseo's heart. How badly he wanted to take Tatsu in his arms, stroke her hair and tell her that she wasn't responsible. What he would give to tell Tatsu that he didn't blame her for his death. That she was forgiven.

But he couldn't. All he could do was watch Tatsu walk down her own path.

When Tatsu landed in America, a group of men was waiting for her. They escorted her from the airport to a nondescript building, where a tall man dressed in a military uniform sat her down.

English felt odd on Tatsu's tongue, but she made sure to speak without an accent. "I was told that I would be given information on Takeo Yamashiro."

"Yes, we shall get to that," the man said in perfect Japanese. "You are here because we would like to offer you a deal. We would like to employ you, and in return, we shall allow you access to all our information and informants to track down Mr. Yamashiro."

"What sort of employment?"

"You will help us track down, capture and restrain people of the…supernatural persuasion. You are talented, Mrs. Yamashiro. Your skills and temperament are exactly what we need."

"My temperament?"

"Your undying need for justice. And for revenge."

Tatsu nodded slowly. She needed contacts to find where Takeo was hiding – and the people that she would be employed to track down would have the information that she needed.

"Yes," Tatsu said. "I will join you."

The military man smiled, the expression making him look years younger. He pulled out a clipboard and pen.

"You will need a codename," he said, reverted back to English.

Tatsu nodded, her hand resting on Soultaker. "Write down: Katana."