And I just couldn't help myself. A short tag for the end.
He'd been walking for hours. The scenery didn't change much. A thick blanket of snow lay across the Lillehammer. Toki Wartooth had finally made it to his destination. The small cottage was even more remote than his father's home. Though the place looked well kept, the local rumors had it that a demon lived here.
Toki didn't believe in demons. He didn't believe in his father's god either. But he did believe in music… and the man that lived here had played the heaviest music he'd heard in all his fourteen years. He'd done enough odd jobs in town to collect some money for guitar lessons. If he had a skill, even one as sinful as playing an instrument, he would be able to escape his father's home once and for all.
The steps to the front door were clear of snow and ice, and for that Toki was grateful. His hand shook as he knocked on the door. There was a pregnant pause before the young man heard a heavy deadbolt draw back. The door didn't creak as it opened and Toki was slightly disappointed. He was having fun with the cliché.
A weathered face greeted him, giving the boy a hard stare. Toki actually took a step backwards before he remembered his manners. He pulled his cap off his head and clutched it with both hands. "Hello, sir. My name is Toki and I would like to take guitar lessons from you. I have money to pay for them." He produced a crumpled wad of assorted bills and coins.
The old man watched Toki another long moment before he backed up to let the teenager into the cabin. Strangely, Toki wasn't afraid. He followed the man inside.
"So, you wish to learn to play? I do not teach quitters, Mr. Wartooth. If you wish to learn from me, you will earn your guitar. And you will not miss a lesson."
Toki was unnerved. He hadn't told the man his last name. Nor had he mentioned having a guitar. He'd never be able to make enough for an instrument. He'd barely had enough to cover lessons. "I will work hard, sir. I promise."
The months went by, turning into years. Toki had diligently snuck out of his father's house every week to make the trek to the old man's house. The old man was called Max and he wasn't as bad as the rest of the town believed. Then again, they believed that Toki's father was a saint.
Toki was practicing on the "grandpa's guitar" that Max made him use. The black and white flying V still sat serenely on the stand where Max put it after he last touched the well-loved instrument. The sixteen year old concentrated as he worked on the latest piece.
"You're doing very well, Toki. Almost better than I expected. I believe I don't have much more to teach you." Max sat down at the kitchen table and sipped a cup of tea.
Toki looked up, trying to mask the disappointment in his eyes. "But… but what will I do now? I have some money but… but not enough for a guitar of my own."
"What about taking her?" Max got up and picked up the Flying V, offering it to the boy.
The student's fingers stilled on the old guitar, his pale eyes wide as saucers. "But Max, I couldn't… that's your guitar."
"I can't just give her to you. You'll have to trade for her. And I can't take money. She's far too special for that." Max seemed to analyze the boy as he thought.
"I don't have anything to trade. Nothing as wonderful as she is." Toki was suddenly nervous, wondering if Max wanted to do something creepy to him, even after two years.
"Toki, I hope that you don't believe I am going to molest you. That would be very disappointing."
"What? Oh.. oh no," the young man shook his head. "I know you would never do that. And I am not so inexperienced as you think." Toki paused. "I do not believe in souls, so I cannot offer you mine."
"Toki, I can assure you that you do have a soul. But you do have something I can use. Despite the hardships you have suffered, and will suffer in the future, you are full of love. There is nothing more powerful and more brutal. Don't ever let anyone tell you differently," Max took the young man by the shoulders and looked into his eyes. "In exchange for my guitar, you will know your curse. Do you still want this, Toki Wartooth?"
An eerie silence fell upon the teen as he considered his words. "My curse? What does that mean?"
"You have a destiny, Toki. One that cannot be ignored. And with greatness comes pain. I know you are familiar with physical pain. But, you will suffer much before you find your path."
"Tell me, Max. I need to know." The young man held the old man's gaze.
"Everyone you ever love will die. You will find friends, family and lovers, but you will have to watch them perish. If I give you this guitar, it will become true."
"I… I do. I know it will be hard, but… I have to do it."
The Flying V was passed from Max to Toki, the acoustic guitar forgotten. The instrument seemed to pulse with an energy even unplugged as Toki held it in his hands. When he looked up to thank Max, he found the cabin empty. The room was drafty. Wind blew through a hole in the roof. The furniture smelled of mold and rot. On the floor was the skeleton where Max had been not a moment before.
"Goodbye Max. I'm sorry that I loved you."
The young man left the run-down cabin, guitar slung across his back. The weight of the instrument felt like the weight of the world as he trudged through the snow.
Years later, Toki lay in a puddle of his own vomit. He'd passed out after a round of the spinning death wheel. Magnus's words were blurred together into one long and awful sound. He thought about Nathan, Pickles, Skwisgaar and Murderface… his family… and he tried his best not to love them. If he loved them, they would die. And he couldn't bear to lose them too. So they had to stay his brothers… and that's it. He would stop being so… not brutal… and try not to care so much. It was all he could give them. Especially Skwisgaar.
