Saiyuri did kick him.

Asuma lurched out of exhausted, dreamless sleep to find an unfamiliar man grinning down at him, and a general sense of looming in the corner that announced Ibiki’s return.

“Oh good,” he groaned. “You didn’t die in an avalanche.”

Saiyuri jostled his foot again. “Up and at ‘em, Scruffy.”

Ibiki gave him a bland look. “I take it you slept well,” he said, and actually cracked a yawn like a normal human being, which made Asuma stare at him. The second leg had been hard on Ibiki: he was pale (well, paler), and rumpled, with deeper shadows etched under his eyes. “Any changes I should know about?”

Asuma attempted to reconnect with the universe. “I can see right up your nose from this angle.”

“Your mental state has degraded,” Ibiki said. “Change noted.”

Asuma hauled himself to his feet, bringing Pakkun with him. The little dog didn’t stir. He raked a hand through his hair, spiking it wild, and scratched a stubbled cheek, yawning. “Snarky bastard. Ginta woke up for a while: got half a debrief out of him. No sign of Ryouma, ‘an Kakashi’s probably cracked clean in half.”

He paused, eying his hyper-literal teammate.

“Emotionally, anyway. Don’t know about how sane he is. Saiyuri patched ‘em up.” He waved his free hand by way of demonstration, gesturing to both bandaged, soft-breathing ninja. “What about you? Strangle anyone while you were out?”

"You weren't there, so I didn't need to,” Ibiki said coolly. “Saiyuri-sensei's associates here, Imahara-san and Kawai-san are friendly.” He nodded at the grinning man, who was tall, dark-haired, and surprisingly muscled for a civilian. “Imahara's grandfather served Konoha."

“And he retired near Lightning?” Asuma said, sticking out a friendly hand. “Hardcore.”

Imahara chuckled and shook his hand, grip hard-calloused and warm. "Grandfather met Grandmother up here. He said it was only fair to let her move back to the mountains she loved when he retired."

“Aww, cute,” Asuma said. “Hope she knitted him a kunai warmer. You guys know it’s freezing here, right?”

Ibiki cleared his throat pointedly. “Maybe you should get moving and help me strike this camp, then. Get your blood pumping.”

“Was he this bossy on the way up?” Asuma asked Imahara.

“Perfect gentlemen,” Imahara said.

“Figures. Here, hold this.” Asuma passed Pakkun across to the man, who cradled the little dog with the expression of someone who didn’t understand the point of a carnivore smaller than a bucket, but was still willing to help. “We’ve got sleds, right? Ready to get the boys loaded up, Saiyuri? They’re stable, right?”

“As stable as I can get them,” the medic agreed. “Start with the blond. He’ll be easier to manage.”

Asuma snorted. “You wouldn’t say that if you knew him.” He glanced aside at Hatake’s still body. “Though, on second thought, in this company...” He shook his head, and jerked his chin at Ibiki. “Get over here and give me a hand, spooks.”