[ oh dear, not self-deprecation. one of the few things that tsurumaru, in all of his manchild glory, won't stand in someone. one of the mysteries of mikazuki munechika, he figures, is that he manages to sound so un-troubled when he says so decidedly troubling words, one that could bring young tantous to tears trying to reassure him otherwise or the older swords to shame in their arrogance. true, the old man may be a bit of an oaf -- anyone can see that from the hilarity that is the aftermath of mikazuki's assault on the kitchen (tm) -- that's certainly no reason to discount his ability to form things with his hands.

especially since he's already trying.

still, he has to give it to mikazuki -- the pride in the lilt of the other sword's body language is certainly amusing, if not a little uplifting. well, well, the old man still has it in him yet. so yes, he'll give him that much as he wrings out the towel, at long last freeing the other sword from his rice bath, and chuckles. ]

Oh, I doubt it was your hands that brought about this warzone. The lack of water in your rice, perhaps, or maybe you needed a little more vinegar here and there. [ hanging up the towel, he surveys the kitchen with a quick sweep of his golden eyes, before he plants his hands on his hips and takes on a suitably mock-exasperated expression. ] Riceballs are very fickle, complex creatures, I'll have you know. Clearly you've made the grave error of underestimating them, old man, and now they've made you experience a sound defeat in your maiden sortie.

But I've seen you curbstomp-tank your way through enemy lines like some blue and gold war elephant, so I know you've got it in you. [ there's laughter in his eyes. ] Now that you've done the scouting work for us, you'll know better. Why don't we team up and give them a taste of their own medicine, hm?

Isn't this a great idea?