Pandora Hearts © Jun Mochizuki
...
The empty ranch had stood that way for close to seven years, by Reim's reckoning. They never did find the body of his old friend, never did solve the mystery, never did get back those damn missing heads of cattle. It was all Reim could do to keep order in the town during those few nail-biting weeks afterwards. Lynchings were demanded by every upright citizen for the murder of Regnard and his baby girl, but without proof of whodunnit, Reim was reluctant to act hastily. It was pointless to hang an innocent man, even if he was the only one who thought so.
Whether it was out of respect or fear of ghostly retribution (Reim wasn't sure which, himself; way out here in the middle of nowhere, you couldn't help but know strange things existed beyond the limits of normal perception. Superstitions turned into flesh-and-blood reality awful quick sometimes), the ranch had never been sold. It was never offered for, never used. In fact, nobody went near it. Not even the lovely Miss Shelly. She just visited the graveyard when she was feeling lonesome.
So it was with some surprise that Sheriff Reim found himself drug outside just after twilight by an excitedly chittering pair of young boys, pointing, talking over one another, shouting demands, and generally raising a ruckus. He'd had to calm 'em down with a fair bit of warnings, but eventually they settled enough to give him an idea of the situation. And that was how he found himself here, standing on the crest of the lone hill between Nowheresville and the Regnard Ranch, flanked by the youngest members of the Nightray and Baskerville families. The boys were arguing behind him, as per their usual, ("Nobody pay them no mind no more. Them two always be fightin' over summat," he had been told once. He couldn't rightly recall by whom, but it had probably been someone's mother) while he confirmed their earlier account with his own eyes.
Sure enough, there was a light blazing in one of the ranch's windows, clear as day.
Reim frowned and spurred his horse. This didn't make a lick of sense. The boys had attested to seeing a figure earlier, but they couldn't agree to his identity. Each thought the other's brother was the cause of it. So, while Eliot professed it had been Leo's eldest brother, Glen, or maybe even the younger Fang or Doug; Leo was right sure it had been Eliot's eldest brother Fred, or maybe even Ernest or Claude.
They were still bickering over it. The only thing those two agreed on was the man had worn a dark cloak, circled the ranch once, and then kicked the door wide open. After the light came on, they ran off to fetch the Sheriff. They didn't know how he got there, didn't know which direction he came from. Didn't even see a horse.
Reim left the boys as they were and cautiously edged his mount closer to the woods on the western side of the ranch, keeping well out of sight. He was trying his best to observe without being observed in return (or worse, shot for his trouble) in the likely event they were dealing with an out-of-towner. Some of them fellers were mean.
After a point where the trees grew too densely for the horse to make its way quietly, the sheriff dismounted and crept closer, keeping low, eyes vigilant. Nothing seemed amiss, aside from the candle burning in yonder window, but he couldn't be too careful. He reached the shadowiest side of the outer wall and crept toward the corner, gently peering around the bend, one hand on the butt of his pistol, the other ready to push himself back if need be...
But what he didn't expect was a tap on the shoulder, and he almost died of fright. Wheeling around he hissed, "What in blazes are you two doing down here?" but he wasn't facing the grumbling eyes of either child. Actually, given his low crouch, he found himself staring at a pair of blue-jeaned knees patiently sitting atop white and purple riding boots, splattered high with dust. White and purple riding boots?
Reim pushed himself to his feet, standing at least half a head higher than the stranger. The other man didn't back down, didn't step back. His shadowy face was completely hidden. Reim didn't know who he was dealing with all the way out here, so he figured he may as well ask. Couldn't be anyone suspicious; not with the way he was tappin' on shoulders instead of shootin' out brains.
"Can I help you?" Reim asked, removing his hand from his weapon to show he meant no hostilities. Instead, he shifted his body so his badge was clearly visible despite the lack of light. (He wasn't vain about it; he just wanted to let the stranger know he was dealing with a man of authority and not some regular skulking ruffian. Stuff like this helped you not get shot by the average angry townsfolk.)
The stranger tipped his head downward like Leo Baskerville did when he wanted to peer overtop those ginormous lenses of his. Must've been a good trick, as Reim couldn't never see Leo's eyes despite the dramatic change in angle, and likewise couldn't see any here. But he did catch a bright flash of something large, sparkling, and pearly. (So the stranger had good oral hygiene: all his teeth white, missin' none. Chances were slim that he was either from here or Thenexttownover.)
The Sheriff cleared his throat, seeking to try again. "Can I help you?" he repeated a little slower, just in case the other was hard of hearing.
"No, not really," came the reply, soft and sing-songish, but not altogether there. The voice itself was light and playful, but somehow sinister beneath. It threw a bucket of chills up and down Reim's spine. "I was simply wondering why you were scurrying around my ranch, Mr. Sheriff. Didn't take you to be much of a rat."
Reim Lunettes stood straight and tall, using his best, most authoritative voice - the one he used for breaking up brawls - just less loud and directed at only one person instead of Glen's entire saloon. "Actually, it ain't your ranch, good sir. It belongs to a Mr. Kevin Regnard. You a relative of his?"
A head shook and a slender hand raised to cover the stranger's wide, mocking laugh. Reim's eyes narrowed. Something about this wasn't right...
And that's when the stranger flipped the hood of his dark cloak, revealing shocks of short, white hair so fine he knew of only one person who could possibly have so much at such a young age.
"K-Kevin," he breathed. "But you're...no. You're alive?"
Kevin's smile was amused as he flipped his hands beneath sleeves that Reim saw were much too long for his strong but skinny arms; he'd best remember to get Miss Shelly out here straight away to hem those up. (He was right sure both would appreciate it.)
"Oh my, I'm afraid you've gotten ahead of yourself and mistaken me for someone else, Mr. Sheriff. The name's not Regnard, if that's what you're asking. It's Break."
"Pardon?"
"Xerxes Break."
"What kind of name is that?" Reim asked. He'd never heard of anything more absurd in his life!
"Mine," answered the man who looked so much like Kevin. (Except that Kevin wore a long ponytail to one side and never brushed his bangs over his left eye. How'd this guy see where he was headed through all that hair?) "And now that I've answered a question of yours, I'd like you to be kind enough to answer one of mine in return."
Reim searched Break's face curiously, willing his mind to comprehend whatever the heck was happening here, because nothing about this encounter made any sort of sense. Kevin never mentioned family, but if this man wasn't a twin brother, who the hell else could he be? Reim otherwise made no move to show the request wasn't fair, because it was, and a part of him was rather intrigued to discover what he could do to be of help to the stranger.
Break was blunt. "Would you mind removing yourself from my property?"
Startled, Reim blinked several times, unable to reply.
"You can leave your horse, though," the stranger mused with one finger tapping his pale lips while his other hand pointed to the wooded area where the animal remained, standing still and strong, patiently observing the two men with big, brown eyes.
"Now wait just a minute!" Reim spluttered, trying his best to regain control of the situation. "This here ranch ain't yours and you have no authority to claim it as-"
"Of course it is and of course I do. Now get out before I shoot a hole through your foolish head."
Reim saw the man reach behind himself for what looked to be a walking cane left propped against the house. Reim also saw by the way he held it that his first impression was caused by a trick of the failing light, and it wasn't a cane at all. No, it was a custom-crafted two-barreled shotgun and this idiot meant business.
If that's the way he wants it, Reim thought with a sigh. I tried to warn him.
But before Reim could draw either of his pistols (and he was a swift draw, that Lunettes), the man had gone and disappeared! The shotgun was left beside the house, but lying in the shadows such as it was, it didn't look anything like a shotgun. Instead, it looked like a cane again, carved from a single branch: long and slender. (It blended into the deep and dark and dead.) There was no sign of the stranger, and when Reim backed up a few steps, he saw the light in the window had been snuffed out.
What in blazes just happened? Reim asked himself, looking for any remaining trace, any hint to where Break had gone. He couldn't have scaled the wall, but Reim didn't see him move anywhere else!
It was weird, way too weird. The man looked just like Regnard (and Reim knew that face well; grew up as close as brothers, they did) but it was absolutely clear that Xerxes Break was not his longtime friend. There was something suspicious about Break's mannerisms, about the way he smiled and didn't mean it, the way he seemed dangerous even when he did nothing but talk. (Not that he really talked, either, but rather played and demanded and twisted his words.)
Sighing, Reim decided he'd best take a closer look at the mysterious weapon that was neither cane, gun, nor stick. But as he turned around, he found that it, too, had since gone and disappeared.
...
