Ibiki wasn't really sure what he thought when he heard they were getting  a pair of newcomers to the cell. Given the crimes of the others in the prison, he was less than pleased at the thought of sharing a cell with men such as they. Insult to injury somehow--that this was his first immediate concern, rather than (for example) his safety or an attempt at escape, probably said something about his misplaced priorities.

Though not much, considering how immediately he attempted to coerce them into breaking out of an Imperial prison. What could he say--a month without a proper wash made a man desperate.

That four jackets would have been more effective was unfortunate, but even as things were Ibiki could not bring himself to ask the ostentatiously dressed woman in their company for an article of their clothing. Imagine it, yes--he could picture a great many scenarios in which he attempted to solicit her jacket, and in not one of them did he make it past 'excuse me' without growing so red in the face that he wasn't certain he'd be able to stand given his current condition. So while another length to reinforce the 'rope' might have been useful, he was prepared to go without.

The brigand's refusal to lend the group his jacket was similarly disappointing, though as the samurai made an uncharacteristically uncouth sound between his teeth and accepted the proffered belt he realized it for a blessing in disguise. Though it made the tying together a but more tricky, by looping the leather back through the buckle around the rod he was able to achieve a much better grasp on it than he'd hoped. He worked diligently and quickly, his calloused fingers adept and nimble.

Would it have given way without the leather? Without Hisao's month of worrying away at the iron? Who could say. But as as the length of iron broke free from the mortar above and below with a sudden clatter that sent the three men sprawling over the grimy floor and back against stone walls, Ibiki would have given Hisao all the credit in the world for the idea.

He'd probably have taken it, too.

"Quickly," he panted, pushing to his feet and rushing for the sudden gap, "the guards will have heard us and I cannot leave without my effects!" Slight at the best of times and slighter now after his time in confinement, Ibiki was the first through the gap with a swift turn sideways and a ridiculous clasp of his hands in front of him. "Thank you, strangers, I am in your debt!" And with that, he dashed back into the station.

Their escape was [i]not[/i] helped by the sudden ruckus raised by the foul brothers occupying Endoyuki's tiny additional cells. At the sudden sound they had both perked up, and seeing Ibiki rushing suddenly past into the station they had begun to holler for their freedom as well. While initially it was a celebration, it quickly turned into the pounding of hands against the bars and walls of their cells and angry swearing as Ibiki bypassed them entirely in lieu of the evidence locker.

"Evidence locker". Please. It was a broom closet, plain and simple--literally, there were actual [i]brooms[/i] in it, alongside mops and the facilities other barely-used cleaning implements. It was also where they'd taken the personal effects of the men they'd imprisoned--Ibiki had noticed as such on the first day of their arrival just before he'd been acquainted with his month-long home. Now, however, he was free too...bang on the door.

It was locked, of course, and without the key there was little more for him to do. His jiggling at the knob became more frantic, sharp and jerky as he started to put his weight and desperation behind it. The others may be running, may be finding the approaching guards more important, but to Ibiki there was nothing but the knowledge that his daisho was behind that fucking wooden door probably propped up on a wall next to the same mop that swabbed some drunk's piss off the wall.

Getting them back from such a fate was more important than escaping himself. It was as simple as that.

...though getting them back would also, likely, lead to escape. So it wasn't quite as selfless as he might have intended.