Tsume tried to look at him, tried to focus past pain and cold. Her head rolled back, resting on a wiry shoulder. The man behind her chuckled, shifting the trench knife still held for Asuma's good behavior. The blade skimmed along the back of her hand, as gentle as silk.

It was an effort to speak. "'suma." He didn't answer. Other people were talking around her, but she couldn't make out the words. Tsume roused herself, fighting past numbness. "Asuma." She struggled to lift her head, to stop leaning on the man behind her. Enemy ninja, but the only stability she had. "Asu--"

"You wanna take him? I've already got her." The trench knife lifted, an arm wrapping around Tsume's ribs, under her breasts. With a quick flash of metal the blade cut the bindings holding her up, and the little bit of balance she'd managed to attain was gone. She would have collapsed if the arm around her hadn't tightened. The ninja picked her up.

"Asuma--"

"He's coming, don't worry. Not dead yet. That one has reserves." The unspoken, unlike you was so loud Tsume wished she had the strength to bite him.

A moment later Whip had pulled Asuma down and was dragging him across the deck, back toward a grate that looked all too familiar. Briefly, Tsume attempted to struggle. It did little good.

Two men--obviously not ninja--opened the grate. Whip dragged Asuma over and tossed him in unceremoniously, then closed it.

Closed it, with her still trapped outside. Tsume braced her feet. Hibiki picked her up and tossed her to the deck, planting a foot on her thigh to keep her there. She couldn't have moved anyway; the world spun slowly, fading to gray. When it cleared again, he had flattened out one of her hands and held another trench knife to her fingertips. Tsume snarled and jerked, getting nowhere at all.

Whip slapped the flat of the blade against her forehead. "I said we'd have a chat. What you did to my good friend Hibiki-san wasn't nice. What you did to our seals wasn't nice, either. Did you hear us tell Asuma-chan to play nice?"

She growled.

He thwacked her with the flat of the blade again. "Hold still. You don't want me to miss."

Hibiki's knee landed on her back, crushing out air and pinning her in place. Carefully, Whip lowered the blade to her index finger, and began to gently saw. Tsume yanked her hand back. He knelt on her wrist, as if it were no more than an inconvenience. She couldn't see what he was doing. She could feel it. Consciousness was still an elusive thing, but adrenaline was helping. She pulled at her arm, felt a sharper pain, smelled blood.

Trapped, panic began to set in. "Let go--let--stop--"

Hibiki cuffed her, something hard smashing into the side of her temple. By the time she was aware enough to fight again, it was over. He picked her up under one arm and tossed her into the cell.

A shape stood far above, holding the trench knife so it shone in the sunshine. "Tell your buddy I said thanks. That would've been much harder without the serrated edges." Then he stepped away and closed the grate.

Tsume didn't look. Her fingertips throbbed, but not as badly as they could have. The pain was blunted until she pressed, and then it flashed through her hands. She shoved herself toward Asuma, dragging his limbs in. There was no hope of pulling him into a corner, where the air wouldn't hit them--she didn't have the strength. Smears of her own blood blended with his. When he wasn't so stretched out, wasn't laying at such an awkward angle, she curled up as close as she could and tucked her hands protectively between them. The heat from his body was like a brand. She didn't move away, and unconsciousness slipped quietly in.