Memoriam
The screams, the screams - they still echo, even as he staggers out of the room that the trial had been in, feeling sick to his stomach. Nobody deserved such a fate as that - no matter what they had done. Yet - if he had simply noticed more instead of suspecting everyone of trying to hurt him: of trying to use him in the investigation, the fact remained he could have found things, possibly, to assist in ending it for Clive’s sake sooner.
Not for the first time, he felt disgusted with himself. Yet...if he simply wallowed in it, that would say he had not listened, not learned a thing while Clive, dearest Clive, was still here, would it not? He...he made a promise. Both to him, and to Uta - if there was one positive out of being fearful of everyone and assuming they wanted nothing more than to doubt, than to toss him aside: it was that now he was himself, he didn’t want to be like that again.
Not now, nor ever: he owed it to Clive, who had held faith in his ability to save others even while under demonic control, even to the end. He owed it to Uta, to Celica...to all the others who had passed away.
“Clive....you might not be able to even hear me now. I....I am a man of my word. If anything, I want to still be that one positive light you felt was noticable from the school, even now you’re gone...”
So it was he went to the convenience store. It took a lot of looking, but eventually he found a blue hat that looked so similar to the one his son in spirit had worn.
“To show you the meaning of my words, both in action and spirit...I shall do this.”
It was...admittedly, quite difficult to fit his curly hair under it. It stuck out badly. Yet stepping out the store, Justin now had...the same type of hat Clive would have worn, but he’d pinned his clown symbol to it. It seemed as good a physical way of showing he meant the promise as any.