"You sure know how to stab a guy in the ego," said Asuma, with a raw chuckle. He started to drop his free arm around Natsumi's shoulders, then caught sight of the mask dangling from her fingers and snapped a hand up to his head, instead. His own mask was long gone, stolen by the river, but his Guardian Twelve sash--

Was still there.

A breath of relief lit the air like cigarette smoke. He drew his fingertips over the soaked, much-abused cloth, feeling the neat edge of old stitches, and let his hand fall. Natsumi tilted a quizzical look at him; Asuma slung his arm over her shoulders, steadying himself with the same movement.

"Sorry. Thought I'd misplaced my eyebrows for a second there." Well-trained muscles tensed beneath his touch. He brushed his thumb over the point of Natsumi's shoulder, smiling at her so not buying it look, then forced himself to start walking. A dull, numb kind of pressure turned the left side of his ribcage into an inflexible slab of frozen meat, but at least it didn't hurt. He kept his hand pressed down firmly, and stopped thinking about it.

Natsumi kept pace, limping stiffly, but without the awkward staccato stagger of someone bleeding out on the inside. By the time they reached the low-hanging tree-line, Asuma decided she probably hadn't broken anything else, either, though a thin trickle of blood spilled from a gash on her thigh. A crooked smile twitched at his lips. Two snapped fingers and a bloody leg was easily survivable, even with the issue of being half freakin' frozen. But they had a bigger problem.

"I might have some bad news," he said, though teeth that wanted to chatter. He clenched his jaw. "Remember the redhead? I didn't exactly see her die. You got the big guy, and I took out the blond kid, but the bitch did her invisible trick before I could get her. She might have fallen when I cut the bridge; I kind of lost track about halfway down. And I definitely didn't see her hit the water."