In the next half hour of sweaty, frozen-fingered digging, the closest thing to a seal Asuma found was a pipe bent like half a fractured kanji. He tossed it onto an increasing heap of jagged metal, and dragged the back of his hand over his bare forehead. His mask hung discarded on his belt, scowling at the ground.

Between them they’d made it three feet down in iron-hard ground, and steam was rising from Ibiki’s uncloaked shoulders.

Asuma blew out a breath. “When these guys get themselves in trouble, they do it right.”

Ibiki glanced up, untidy tendrils of hair coming loose from his slick ponytail. He rested briefly on his shovel. “Have you seen any seals? If we could risk an earth jutsu, we’d have a better chance of getting them out before they freeze to death.”

“Better chance of blowing the whole thing sky high, too,” Asuma said, with a brief vision of rocks crashing down and blood oozing up between the cracks. “Guess at least that would be quick. How’re you on earth jutsu? My affinities are Wind and Fire.”

"I'm good with earth. Earth and Water." A wry curve edged Ibiki’s mouth. "No wonder we get along so well.”

Asuma snorted, and leapt up out of the hole. “Have at it, then. If you kill ‘em, I’ll brain you with a shovel.”

“I’ll try not to,” Ibiki said, dry as dust. He clambered out of the hole, set his shovel aside, and folded long-fingered hands into seals. A bare thread of chakra shivered against Asuma’s senses, unfolding into a miniature jutsu. Half a handful of loose dirt rose into the air, compacted itself down, and slapped against the side of the hole, reinforcing the crumbling wall.

Underneath their feet, the faint signature of Pakkun’s chakra didn’t flicker.

Asuma breathed again. “Try something bigger?”