Ibiki hid his smile as he turned back to the freshly churned earth and started scattering handfuls of little brown seeds. Behind him he could hear the dulcet sounds of canvas flapping and metal clinking against metal as Asuma struck and stowed the tents — a task the man had volunteered for. The power of suggestion, Shida-sensei would say, was as strong as an A-rank jutsu.

When there was nothing left to see but a bare patch of earth littered with seeds, a burned-out fire pit, and some blood-stained, well-trampled snow, Ibiki shouldered his pack. “You said you’re good with wind jutsu. Do you want to blow the snow around to cover our tracks, or should I use a water jutsu to move it?”

"Flatterer." Asuma said, but there was a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth when he lit another cigarette. His fingers walked through a short sequence of seals, and a little vortex twisted up, sparkling golden in the morning sun as it swept the snow bare. "Anythin' else you want to compliment me into doing?"

“I think that’s got it for now,” Ibiki said. He pulled a ration bar from his hip pouch and peeled off the foil. “Unless.... If I tell you I really like your coffee, will you be able to conjure up a thermos full?”

Asuma snorted a laugh. “Sorry, darlin’. If you want a coffee date, you’re going to have to wait until we get home.”

“Sorry yourself, I don’t date women with beards,” Ibiki answered. He took a bite of his bar — thick, gluey, and sweet, with enough of a hint of flavor that he could guess it was intended to be peanut butter — and gestured with it at Asuma. “Are you going to eat? Soon as I finish this, we should get moving. I don’t think there are any hazards on the trail, but if Hatake wakes up and is combative again, we should be there.”

"Smart guy like you can't walk an' eat at the same time?” Asuma asked. “My illusions are shattered." He started walking in the direction of the sled tracks. "Got my breakfast right here,” he added, waving his cigarette in the air as he brought it to his lips for another drag. “You know if Hatake wakes up again, Saiyuri will throttle you if you touch him."

“I’d be more than happy to leave subduing him to you this time,” Ibiki said, rubbing his bruised throat. “It’s hardly fair for me to have all the fun on this mission.”

“Because strangling is any guy’s idea of a good time,” Asuma said, dry as a desert corpse.

“There are other ways to subdue someone, that was just the most expedient and prudent at the time.”

Asuma raised an eyebrow. “Do I even want to know what your second choice would have been?”

Ibiki thought about it for a moment, and offered Asuma a cool smile. “Probably not.” It was fun to see the tiny twitch in Asuma’s expression. “But next time it will be you, not me.” He popped the last bite of rat bar in his mouth and slid his mask into place. “Shall we?”