Santokumaru quickly surveys the situation. The kobold pack was dangerous, but not quite as dangerous as the wily Captain or the Ramenooze. What was that spoon technique he just used? Santokumaru wondered, as he tapped his knife block in thought. Cutting the ropes supporting many of the kobolds was certainly priority one, though protecting their bowlship was also important. How could he hope to make the optimal move when there were so many factors, so many variables to consider?
He shakes his head briskly, like dispelling a bad dream. Do what you have always done, he thinks to himself. See the food before you. Make the cut.
At once, the ropes begin to look like ramen noodles in his mind's eye, and they are far too long for cooking. With a flourish, he draws one of his father's legendary carving katanas: Gyuuto, marked with demonic bulls snorting fire and smoke. He raps his knuckle against the tempered steel, and feels his soul crackle with passion and heat. At once, the flames marking the metal spring to life, shrouding the blade in a plume of swirling fire. Santokumaru becomes a blur of red-orange slashes for a moment, then re-sheathes the blade with a metallic clack. On cue, several of the ropes are suddenly sliced in two, their burnt ends fraying into cinders.
"Little surprise, that a ramen captain wields a ladle. Come, then." In a burst of imperceptible speed, he lunges at Captain Akimbold, Gyuuto spinning like a fiery propeller in his hand. "Let us pit knife against spoon."