Ryunosuke didn't like coming into work. Especially while hungover. He was far from the picturesque image of a Hashira. He looked disheveled and unkept. He still had bedhead, and his Wasegawa University uniform was thrown on haphazardly. The only thing that could remotely insinuate his status as a Demon Hunter was his large Mark sprawled across his face and his massive Nodachi strung across his back. His sunken eyes examined his "captor". 

Uzui Kairi. Hotshot Hashira. Gaslights the nightlife as a rich heiress or something. A master of masks and manipulation. AKA, the only person that could ever find Ryunosuke. It really was bad luck on his end. He was brought from Shinjuku to Tokyo and immediately went AWOL. He's never been this far outside of Shinjuku. And, well, its a completely new territory to spread his legend. Of course, the night he decided to party hard was the very same night he got in a drunken brawl at a bar Kairi knows. One thing led to another. And next thing Ryunosuke knows, he's getting a rude awakening and an immediate summons. 

[color=salmon]"Soooooooo... no chance you'd let me off the hook?"[/color] Kamado asked sheepishly. Even saying those words felt like he was dragging a knife through his skull. He makes a quick reminder not to mix his liquors next time, or to check if his drinks were drugged. 

[color=salmon]"Ya think you could stop me if I try to leave now?"[/color] he asks again. [color=salmon]"I heard you were a good fighter... why not show me firstha-"[/color] a wave of nausea and vertigo cuts him off as he stumbles to the ground, obviously still suffering from a major hangover. 

He chuckled to himself. Mainly for the absurdity of this all. After a moment, he sobers up his disposition. He wasn't an idiot, he knows why all the Hashira are being summoned. Moon is dead. Ozawa, Harukano, Nanbu, Todoroki, Nakamura, Kishimoto, Furukawa, all of them dead. The yakuza, Corps, whatever you want to call them, are losing this war. Ryunosuke still remains one of the greatest cards his Oyakata-Sama can play, and one of the organizations greatest liabilities. This taciturn train of thought did no favors to his migraine, but that all seemed a bit distant now.

Was he... actually starting to think like a proper Hashira? [color=salmon]"Nah... not in the slightest."[/color] he whispers to himself. Realities of war or not, he was still the Dragon of Shinjuku first and foremost. Whatever happens to the Corps, happens. He wouldn't lose any sleep if any more of his peers died... right?