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[Color=fuchsia][u][i]Takayuki Mekakushi[/i][/u][/color]
[hr]
Takayuki the Mirage, when it came to it, was a simple man. Run fast, help squad, get paid, repeat. That, for the last nineteen years, had been his routine, and this mission, he knew, would likely be no different. He adjusted himself slightly against the tree he was leaning on, blew a little extra fire chakra at his dwindling campfire with a handseal, and went back to the apple he'd been carving with an old kunai of his Mother's. He turned it, absent-minded, in his hands, eyeing his students with a wry smile. He'd decided on a more hands off approach today, choosing to let them do their own thing until something daft went particularly wrong, (as they often did in the battalion he'd been assigned to). His gaze eventually drifted to where Miho was cooking, and he laughed softly. She was a firecracker, that one.

Kenshiro's announcement came as no surprise, and he found himself pausing as a few scenarios ran through his head. Nodding to himself, he jumped silently to his feet. He made his way to Miho's fire first, stooping behind her with his chakra suppressed. [color=fuchsia]"Oi, Senju, they're meant to grilled, not flambéd!"[/color] He skewered one of the fish from her bucket with a twig he'd found, and blasted it with a quick jet of fire before flickering over to Kenshiro in a flurry of leaves. [color=fuchsia]"So, we're sure they're converging deliberately, yeah? I hate to sound contrarian, but those two's relationship has been historically less than cordial."[/color] He frowned, surveying the map. [color=fuchsia]"Which of these were you thinking they'd meet at, anyway? Seems a bit of an obvious choice if you ask me, but then I've never claimed to be an intelligence specialist."[/color] He took a bite of his fish. It was surprisingly tasty.