So, on today's unnoticed author's note, I'll explain pretty much the whole story.
To make things short, the original story was a writing experiment on what the (French) readers liked and hated to read and, following those likes and dislikes, the story was written with every little detail that irked them.
Therefore, while the plot is pretty easy to follow, the writing makes it harder (just a tiny bit though) to understand.
By the way, enjoy this new chapter.
[夏] : Summer.
Miura Haru wasn't a happy reporter.
No, far from it.
When her boss had told her that he had an incredible scoop for that would help her climb in their job ladder, the young woman had been convinced that she would be send in a grim place where she would have to carefully tread with a sensible subject that would be diffused on TV.
Of course, the truth had been way harsher.
She had been chosen to interview some kid who had received the Naoki prize in July.
Exactly what the reporter hated most. If she had chosen that job, it was mostly for the investigations thrill, being able to relay with her trusty notebook and pen what happened in the wold to the citizens. Not to interview some snobbish brat receiving whatever prize in literature the Naoki was.
A sigh came through her parted luscious lips and the reporter straightened her messenger bag's strap on her right shoulder, raising her brown eyes to look at the front of the writer's house.
All in all, it was a totally normal house. Four walls, windows with nice beige colored drapes and a front garden properly cared for.
Not really the slump that she had hoped for.
Haru sighed once again and lifted her hand to push on the bell ring when the front door brusquely opened, surprising the reporter with her hand raised and she let out a surprised little shriek. She swiftly put a hand on her chest and observed with curiosity the face peering through the opening, wondering if it was the brat that she was supposed to interview.
"S-Sawada Tsunayoshi-san?" she asked hesitatingly.
The face's light brown eyes widened and Haru felt a pang in her chest when she noticed how young the boy looked like.
And how much Sawada Tsunayoshi's features were delicate.
If she added a picture to her interview, there would immediately be a raise of female readers for their newspaper, the young reporter calculated with a smug smile.
"Who-who are you?" the young boy whispered as he looked down shyly so he wouldn't meet Haru's probing eyes.
"Hahi!" the reporter exclaimed as she hit her forehead with the back of her hand. "I forgot! I'm Miura Haru! I made an appointment this morning, do you remember, Sawada-san?"
"You can call me Tsuna," the boy smiled softly while he opened the door.
Haru's eyes widened and she felt the pang in her chest increase until it became an insisting pull. She observed the lithe body covered by way too big sweater and trouser as well as the bare feet. It immediately gave her the idea of presenting him as a fragile looking Petit Prince. Let's see, if she could get him to wear something green along with a green scarf, then her interview would be a great success... Haru shook her head softly and tightened her hold on her bag's strap where her loved notebook and pen were. Then, the young woman followed the writer in a dark corridor until they arrived in a living room lovingly furnished.
The reporter quickly sat on an armchair and waited impatiently that Tsuna end making his tea, she preparing her notebook and pen when she felt a sudden shiver on her right arm. Her hand let go of her pen and she furrowed her brows as she watched it roll on the living room's floor until it stopped at the foot of the coffee table that was between the couch and armchair.
She slowly stood up and leaned to fetch her pen when a new shudder ran on her spine. A small scream came through her parted lips and the young woman clearly heard the boy's voice snap in the silent room.
"Reborn!" Tsuna said as he came in the living room with two cups of tea. "Let her go! Now!"
Haru was startled by the sudden scream and she quickly straightened her back while she searched for the named Reborn.
"Hahi?" she tilted her head. "Who's Reborn?"
"Nobody," the young boy immediately answered as he gave her a cup of tea.
Haru began to write on her notebook right away.
« Personality disorder. Schizo ? » If that was the case, she would present him as a Petit Prince who lived in his imaginary world. Maybe as Peter Pan ?
She took a sip of her tea and softly nodded. Sawada Tsunayoshi could make one mean tea.
"So, Tsuna-san," she began once she put the cup on the table. "What can you tell me about you? From your records, you always were a dunce and were unable to correctly write anything until three years ago. What happened?"
Tsuna let out a small nervous laugh and scratched the back of his head while he looked a some point next to the reporter. The latter turned and noticed with a small pout that there wasn't anything significant there, aside from an abstract painting.
"That year," the boy whispered as he looked down at his steaming tea, "Kurokawa-sensei forced me to enter her writing club. She always refused to accept my works if they were full of mistakes so I often had to stay until school's closure so I could finish her homework. By the end of the year, I was more or less able to write without making too many mistakes..."
"Oooh!" squealed Haru as she wrote vividly on her notebook. "I see! It was that Kurokawa-sensei who made you love writing!"
Tsuna diverted his eyes from his tea and glanced once again at the abstract painting with a strange annoyed face. Almost as if he had seen something unpleasing.
"You could say so," he muttered before he glanced down at the cup of tea in his hands.
« Repressed love toward his teacher? Research on Kurokawa! Find his first texts to compare his style! »
"I see," the reporter hummed while she nibbled on the tip of her pen. "Critics say that you constantly change your writing style... How would you describe yourself?"
The boy gaped in surprise and he briefly glanced at the painting before he blushed angrily. He put down his cup of tea sharply and furrowed his brows while he looked at the faint droplets that had spilled on the wood.
"I am NOT a spineless milksop who can't decide for a writing style," he hissed with a vexed face while he glared at the droplets.
«Schizo. » Haru underlined three times.
"Or schizophrenic" Tsuna rumbled as he looked up to glare daggers at the abstract painting.
Suddenly, a gust of air ruffled her hair in the room where all the windows were closed and the reporter got goosebumps without really knowing why. She looked at Tsuna, wanting to ask him what was going on but quickly decided better and stayed silent when she saw the threatening glint in the boy's eyes. The writer had a livid face and his eyes were looking with an unwavering determination at the painting.
However, and this gave her shudders, Tsuna's brown eyes weren't looking at the abstract painting but a something else.
Something that she couldn't see.
"Miura-san" Tsuna said with a tense voice as he reminded the reporter that she wasn't alone. "You should leave..."
Haru nodded quickly and fetched all of her things before she left almost running the house.
It was only once she had gotten home that she noticed it.
Her notebook was totally blank. All of her notes had been deleted.
Anon's answers:
Great: Believe me, Tsuna'll get his copier. If he doesn't, his editor is going to rip his throat...
SRB: The Tsuna in this story can be pretty easy to understand because aren't we all dealing with bad self-esteem and the author's block? But luckily (or unluckily for some), he has a demon to help him and kick his ass whenever he doubts his own merit. And believe me, I don't put myself too low, I never read poetry in English so I don't know how it's done nor if it has rules like the French poems do, therefore I can't say that I'm great at it. Anyway, thank you for all the cheering!
So, just so you know, I can't post the next chapter because I need someone to reread it and tell me whenever something doesn't make sense. It's one of the most important chapters and I can't have a double meaning in it. So, unless you are willing to help, you'll have to wait until I find someone.
On another hand, what did you think of this chapter?