They didn’t bother knocking Asuma out this time, just laughed at his rage and wished him the joy of it while they wheeled Katsuko away. He tore the skin from his knuckles and bruised his heels black trying to break the door down; wrenched his shoulder halfway out of joint slamming himself against iron bars. The door shuddered, but wouldn’t give.

His chakra was sealed out of reach. His weapons were gone. His only plan was half a bluff and half a guess, and it wouldn’t help Katsuko now.

Nothing he did could help Katsuko.

He scraped his naked back sliding down the wall; braced his elbows on his bent knees, laced his fingers behind his head and chained down the desire to scream. All he could see was that unzipped woman, laid out on the table with her ribcage cracked open and her eyes fixed on his. Had she even survived?

Was that what they were doing to Katsuko?

She’d smiled as they’d taken her. He could still feel the cold press of her mouth against his hand, her tears on his skin.

A shift of movement across the hall brought his head up. Ichiba was barely a shadow in his cell; he’d wedged himself into the corner by his door, one skinny arm wrapped through the bars. His eyes were hollow and red-rimmed, fixed on Asuma but occasionally flicking towards the door at the end of the hallway.

Look after Ichiba, you hear?

Asuma wet his lips. “Hey, kiddo,” he said, and cleared his throat when the words came out croaky. “You doing okay?”

Ichiba gave him a long look. “You’re not very good at this.”

Asuma snorted a rough laugh. “It was that or I-Spy, and there ain’t exactly much to look at down here.”

Ichiba didn’t laugh back. He fidgeted, picking at his ragged sleeveless tunic, and then said abruptly: “She looks like Kaminari’s daughter. Katsuko, I mean. I don’t—they’ve been saving her for the special projects, but they’ve been trying to keep her alive. So she’ll probably come back.”

Ichiba was trying to comfort him, Asuma realized; it made something twist in his chest.

“She’s coming back,” he said, with all the conviction he could find. “And we’re getting out of here. I wasn’t kidding about people looking for me. We’ll burn this whole damn place to the ground, and you can see your sister dance for Autumn again, ‘cos I ain’t leaving you behind, either.”

He’d get out every last person in the cells, if he could.

If his guess was right.