AN: I don't know. Because you know, 3369 is crack. lol.
The day Rokudo Mukuro walked into the Namimori Middle School Boxing Club was the day he would regret for the rest of his life. Walking in gracefully, as he always did, he didn't expect to be hit by the stench of sweat and manly testosterone. Well, he should have expected it because the hallway positively oozed with it. Offended by that awful reek, he became curious about the source of the smell. That is, he was really reconnoitering Namimori Middle, but since he accidentally lost the map Chikusa provided him to a gust of wind on his way here, he might as well investigate this offending phenomenon. So the last thing he expected was a punch to his face. Make that, a punch to his face, and the eardrum-smashing sound of someone yelling, "EXTREME!"
As Mukuro met the wooden floor's hard embrace, he wondered if he had mistakenly ingested some of Ken's prized premium dog food for breakfast. From somewhere above him crashed down the same tectonic-plate-moving voice, "I DIDN'T SEE YOU TO THE EXTREME! I hope you're not too extremely injured! You should look carefully to the extreme where you're going next time!" Mukuro picked himself up and took a good look at his assailant. This is turning out to be a bad day indeed. "Oya, you must be the Sun Guardian." The throbbing in his cheek was ignored in favour of the pain his ears were subjected to, yet again. "OHH! You must be that extreme dude from that extreme ring battle! My name is Sasagawa Ryohei! You're extremely strong, aren't you? JOIN THE BOXING CLUB!"
Mukuro sighed inwardly. Of all the guardians to meet, he had to meet this one. "Sun-" "SASAGAWA RYOHEI!" Mukuro smiled thinly. "Sasagawa Ryohei. I will not be joining your boxing club." Ryohei was unperturbed. "You're here, so you must want to join the boxing club to the extreme!" Bashing his pineapple-styled head into a wall suddenly seemed very appealing. But of course, it was against his very being to do that. He smiled again. "Sasagawa Ryohei, must I-" "OKAY! As the president of the boxing club, I must show the new member around to the extreme!" Mukuro was nearly wrenched off his feet as Ryohei grabbed his arm oh-so-gently and pulled. Maybe bashing that thick head full of hair that stuck up like grass into a wall was a better idea.
Ryohei's arm clamped down around Mukuro's shoulder, and the latter realized he was mistaken. It would be much better to rip off that bastard's arm and dump him into some deep body of water so it could wash away that disgusting overwhelming stench of long before mentioned sweat and manly testosterone. He couldn't decide which was worse, Ken's canine odour, or this. How did Sawada Tsunayoshi put up with a man like this? Perhaps this was why the Vongola Tenth always had that apprehensive expression plastered on his silly face. And perhaps that's why the air quality was so bad these days.
He was being lead away from the door. This was looking bad. The Mist Guardian decided a hasty retreat was in order. Unfortunately, that arm. Doesn't. Move. And that smell. It was so overwhelming. Wasn't the sun supposed to produce UV rays and not a horrifically hot, sweaty, sticky stench? Or, that's what Chrome had said he would've learned about if he had actually bothered to attend school. Such a good girl, his Chrome, obediently attending school. A good girl like her should never be in a room alone with this man. Imagine all the horrifying ideas she would come home with! His dear Chrome, spouting things like "Extreme!" and practicing boxing. Oh, the horror. The door was looking more inviting by the second. After some thoughtful planning, Mukuro expertly twisted out of Ryohei's grasp. In reality, it was more of an awkward shimmy.
His well-earned escape was cut short when not one, but two hands clamped down on his shoulders. Ryohei's face loomed frighteningly close and he bellowed, "That was an extreme move! It came from the samba, right? I heard you can do the samba to the extreme! You must teach it to me to the extreme!" Mukuro wanted to bury his face into his hands. "It would appear that your sources are-" Ryohei's face split into a big grin and he gave his victim a vigorous shake. "Thanks! I promise I'll work hard to the extreme!" Maybe this idiot was dropped on his head when he was a baby. "No. you're mistaken. I don't know the samba." Ryohei looked like an innocent puppy that Mukuro had just kicked in the face. "Oh. You mean… You're embarrassed to the extreme about it, right? That's ok then. How about you teach me the tango then? I heard that's real extreme too!" Mukuro wanted to cry.
Ryohei presented his victim with a blinding grin. "I heard the tango is real physical to the extreme! Nothing's better than a tough physical workout to the extreme, right, Mukuro?" Mukuro briefly wondered if it was possible to die from excess retardation. "I don't care much for exercise. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be leaving, Sasagawa Ryohei."
Like a cat on a leash, Mukuro's retreat was halted by a vice-like grip on his elbow (he refused to admit it was quite an extreme grip). The Sun Guardian's grip tightened. "Members of the Boxing Club are not allowed to leave without the permission of their president."
"Oya." So this idiot did have another side to him. As fast as it appeared, the change disappeared. Ryohei was back to his extreme self. "This is extremely bad! You've got to follow club rules!" That annoying grin was plastered on his face again. Mukuro turned his gaze from his captured elbow to Ryohei. "Is there a reason why I'm being detained here?" Ryohei ignored him. "As punishment for breaking a club rule, you must teach me the samba to the extreme!" It's quite surprising how retarded people can get. Before Mukuro's mind could get around the extreme retardation, Ryohei had planted one arm around his waist, and had his right hand in a death grip. At this abominably close distance, Mukuro was bombarded with the true extremity of Ryohei's loudness. "MUKURO, LET'S DO IT TO THE EXTREME!"
This is why the statistics for suicide was so high in this country. The mere existence of this man was enough to induce a desire to commit suicide even in hardened criminals such as Mukuro. "Sasa-" "RYOHEI!" "…Ryohei. I believe what you're trying to start is the waltz, not the samba… And please, let go of me. You are being quite-" Mukuro learned that there was such a thing as more than 'up close and personal'. It's true. You learn something new every day. He was quite sure Ryohei wasn't in such close proximity before. Either that, or the headache he developed was doing strange things to his mind.
Ryohei yanked on Mukuro's hand in his extremity. "This is the samba to the extreme! Kyoko told me so, and she would never lie to me to the extreme!" They were arguing about different dance forms. The world is ending. It was ending before he even had a chance to take it over. The pity.
"I assure you, Ryohei, this is the waltz." Wasn't he supposed to do something about the distance between him and Ryohei? "Kyoko said it's the samba to the extreme!" He should be doing something about it. "Chrome had to do a school project on the waltz. This is clearly a waltz." So, about that (near negligible) distance. "This is the tango to the extreme!" The dist- this damn bastard won't admit he's wrong. "Oya oya, the tango, is it? I believe you were insisting it's the samba?" So it really was the sam- waltz. "Actually, I prefer the tango! It's more physical to the extreme than the samba!" This retarded argument wasn't ending. "You already proved yourself wrong, Ryohei. This is the waltz. And nothing but the waltz." Mukuro was going to win this. Rokudo Mukuro never lost an argument. Ryohei's eyes had an unholy fiery glint to them. "This is the tango, and we're going to do the tango to the extreme!" He can see the finish line in the near distance. Life is good. "Kufufu. And if I refuse? What are you going to do about it, Sasagawa Ryohei?" Or not.
The next day, during lunch hour, Tsuna was paid a visit by the school's resident boxer. "Ah, Onii-san, what brings you here?" Ryohei grinned. "SAWADA! I saw Mukuro yesterday," Tsuna choked on his rice, "and he was really extreme!" Tsuna's senior gave him a jolly slap on the back. "We did the samba and the tango, and they were really extreme!" Tsuna coughed out the rice. Ryohei looked thoughtful. "Although I didn't think he could scream like a girl… And he looks like a pineapple, but he sure didn't taste like one! Isn't he just so extreme, Sawada? I should make him the vice-president of the boxing club!" Tsuna nearly passed out from shock, Gokudera frantically switched between worrying over the Tenth and berating Ryohei, and Yamamoto just sat there and laughed.