“Maybe there are more tools hidden around,” Jiro suggested. “Let’s split up and search.”
We scoured every inch of the icy room. The walls, the floor, even the ceiling, but the only tools were the ones I’d found. We regrouped, staring at the ice-locked chisel and hammer in silence.
“This is so dumb,” Kenji said, his voice rising. “Are we supposed to stand here breathing hot air onto the ice until it melts?”
“Iron Face did say we needed to work together,” I said.
“I bet that’s the key to this challenge,” Jiro added. “But instead of hot air, rubbing our hands over it might work better. Come on, let’s try it.”
The three of us pressed our hands against the ice, rubbing back and forth to create friction. The ice became slicker, but progress was excruciatingly slow. My hands went numb within minutes.
“This is useless,” Kenji muttered, pulling back. “There has to be another way.”
Before anyone could respond, a hissing sound filled the room. I glanced up and saw sprinklers embedded in the container’s ceiling. They sprang to life, dousing the icy ceiling and outer walls in water.
“What the hell?” Jiro shouted. “Are they trying to help us, or?—”
A deep groan echoed through the room, cutting him off. The ceiling above us shifted slightly, sending chills rippling through my body.
“They’re not helping,” I said, my voice shaking. “The water’s melting the walls. It’s destabilizing the ceiling.”
“Holy crap,” Jiro whispered. “If that ceiling collapses…”
“We’ll be crushed,” Kenji finished.
My heart pounded as the full weight of the challenge hit me. The tools, the carving—it was all a distraction. The real challenge wasn’t about ice sculptures.
“Guys, forget the tools,” I said, stepping back from the wall. “The challenge isn’t about carving anything. It’s about escaping this cage of ice.”
The groaning of the ceiling above us didn’t leave much time for contemplation.
Jiro nodded slowly. “She’s right. We’ve been focusing on the wrong thing. The question isn’t what they want us to carve; it’s how we’re expected to survive.”
The doubt in Kenji’s eyes told me he wasn’t entirely on board. “Are you suggesting we continue rubbing our hands over the tools?”
“No, you idiot. Clearly, we need to brainstorm another idea,” Jiro said.
“Who are you calling an idiot?” Kenji walked up to Jiro, chest puffed out, fists balled.
“Guys! Guys! Stop it!” I shouted, coming between them and using my arms to push them apart. “This is what they want. They want us to turn on each other. But remember what Iron Face said. We need to work together.”
I glanced around the room, my eyes landing on the three massive ice blocks. The pieces started to come together in my mind. “What if the blocks aren’t just there to carve? What if they’re meant to…hold the ceiling up?”
Jiro’s eyes widened as realization dawned. “Like support columns. If we stack them, they could stabilize the ceiling. At the very least, give us a safe zone underneath.”
Kenji let out a laugh. “You want to build a structure out of these giant blocks? Do you know how heavy they are? We can’t even lift them!”
“Not by hand.” Jiro’s gaze darted toward the belts on our uniforms. “But we can use these as straps. I’ve seen it done before. We can rig a way to lift the blocks.”
Kenji hesitated, mulling over Jiro’s suggestion. “Fine. Let’s do it.”
Just then, the longer metal sides of the container fell onto the ground, exposing the ice room. A support structure held up the container’s ceiling, which still sprayed water down on the ice. The only difference now was that we had an audience. Chef Sakamoto, Reina, and Iron Face were watching from the other side of the ice.
“As if we needed the added pressure,” Jiro said. “I’m surprised they’re not sharing a large bowl of popcorn.”
The ceiling groaned again, reminding us we were running out of time.
We quickly removed our belts and fashioned them into makeshift straps. Jiro crouched by one of the blocks, slipping the belt underneath and securing it tightly. With a grunt of effort, he heaved the block onto his back, using the straps to distribute the weight.
