Music in media: Apologize by OneRepublic

13 January, Thursday, 2 p.m. | Winter

The return to reality was always disorientating and Rae was sure as high heavens she wasn't tripping. Professor Juniper went to her side swiftly and placed her hand over Rae's forehead, and upon commenting the girl was really alright, thank Arceus, the woman proceeded to comfort Rae with the fact that Castelia City was on lockdown because the jazz band members lounging at one part of the city were killed, thus accounting for the silence of the city.

Seeing that Rae was indeed quite alright as Professor Juniper affirmed, the rest of them left for lunch (Icosa's treat, on Cheren's orders, for the sake of an apology lunch) in hopes of snooping out who the murderer might be. Rae wished them utmost safety while Professor Juniper sauntered to the kitchen to make them both as well as Rae's Pokémon some good ol' wraps full of Snivy tail-leaves and fresh Tepig bacon. It somehow made sense that Oshawott wasn't hurt in the process because "Oshawott supremacy", said Professor Juniper with a chortle, "but really, Rae, would you want to munch on a scalchop?"

Rae shook her head and gobbled up the wrap. Her Pokémon ate with gusto. While she waited for them to finish their meal, she asked the professor about Zen Mode Darmanitan and Dream Mist, if Munna and Musharna might have lived in the Relic Castle centuries ago too. Professor Juniper pondered over this possibility and decided a visit to Relic Castle after the lockdown was over was necessary to find out the purpose of Zen Darmanitan beyond psychological offence and self-defence.

With the professor preoccupied with her thoughts, Rae took the opportunity to make her leave.

"Hands off the door, Rae," said Professor Juniper, crossing her arms. "Where do you think you're going?"

Rae cast a furtive glance at her. "To meet Burgh."

"You're not in the best state."

Rae eyed Tabutabu and requested for a Heal Pulse. "I think I am now. Thank you and goodbye, Professor."

She dashed down the stairs before Professor Juniper could stop her, and out of the building to the Gym. Burgh was already there with a look of apprehension.

"Why the hurry? What's the rush?" He caught her just before she tripped over her foot and gave her a big smile.

"It's nothing."

Burgh didn't pursue the matter further. Instead, he turned towards the door with trepidation overflowing, beads of sweat all over his being. With a low grunt, he yanked it open and drew the attention of the Harlequins inside, passing him snickers unanimously in an effort to mask their shock which was still lingering and flickering in their eyes.

"B-Burgh!" One of them spluttered.

They soon averted their gazes towards Rae and questioned her presence. Was she a challenger or Burgh's daughter or niece or what?

"Aomine Rae, from Johto. She's a Normal-type specialist." Burgh held his gaze on each and every one of them.

Rae realised now they all looked identical to each other and it was really difficult to tell them apart. She had to rely on their nametags. Their names were familiar. Then it struck her they were the artists whose works were currently on display in Studio Castelia. For a moment she had forgotten so. Each of them had a Pokémon that was thematically linked to their works. Gary had a Laversta, linked to the Simipour's arson and the Bug-type was capable of strangulation if it tried. A Scyther that could potentially cut down a Runerigus stood beside Jack. Clarence had a Vikavolt that could unleash bullets of electricity. Rick's Lokix guaranteed foul play and a bag of murderous tricks. And when one thought of explosions, like a bomb in a Revavroom, the Bug-type go-to was often Pineco, so it wasn't a surprise to see the Pokémon balancing atop Anders's head. For a taco restaurant, however, perhaps the Pokémon that resembled most closely to a steel taco or the like was Shelmet, hence the Shelmet's presence near Louis.

"Why's she here?" Jack pointed at her with an accusatory finger. "Is she going to be part of your apology or something? You've accepted your degeneracy then?"

Burgh raised a hand and coughed. "As a matter of fact, no, I'm not degenerate. But I am sorry. I really am. I will not be painting your portraits or try to. Not anymore." He kneeled on the floor and kissed the silk-stitched tiles. He rose and gestured towards Rae with an open palm. "She's my new muse."

"Burgh's new muse, eh?" croaked Gary. The rest of the Harlequins guffawed.

Rae darted her gaze across their faces brimming with mock amusement and clenched her fists. The apology wasn't working. They just wouldn't listen. If it's due to the music...

"I may have been complacent." Burgh sighed. "I ask only for your forgiveness."

"Bah! Forgiveness, he says!" Anders pointed at Burgh and the Harlequins laughed again. "Where were you when the Gym underwent renovations? Who were the ones who had to remove the honey walls and reinstall avant-garde cocoons?" Anders gestured to the cocoons hanging from the ceiling and various platforms in the Gyms. "You had to think of Gym puzzles, yeah? Your puzzles are more important than us!"

"That's not how-"

"That's not how it is!" said Louis, mimicking Burgh's voice with a mask of fear, his hands clasped together as if bound by rope. "Yeah, yeah, Burgh, we understand. It's not like you cared about us anyway."

"What do you mean?" Burgh howled now.

Rick whistled to draw everyone's attention. "You never did care about what we wanted. Studio Castelia always showcased your works. And when did we finally have our turn? Oh, when we became vocal about it."

"And when we suggested a dark theme to go with the whole doom jazz badaboom? You pinched your nose and left! You said we were free to do whatever we want! Whatever we truly want!" added Clarence.

"How encouraging," completed Jack with a sneer. "It's too late to apologise, Burgh. It's too late."

Burgh's eyes bulged as he recoiled in late realisation the unspeakable volume of hostility towards him that had been repressed in the hearts of his Gym Trainers. They never once spoke to him about it. He just assumed they were alright with everything, all of them easygoing and agreeable. How did it come to this?

It was the music. Yes, the music. If the music hadn't changed, none of this would've happened. Worse still was the theme they chose. What was it again... "all the sins you never had the courage to commit"? How dark, how deceitful! It was a hollow strike at Burgh's ego to claim they represented his repressed desire to sin. But it was strange how sin meant murder, meant taking a life or many lives. Painting was not so different, was it? To take a life and smear it on a blank canvas, turn it into a splatter of colours like blood on the cold pavement of Mode Street. To draw a life apart with a brush as if it were a scalpel, to bare the unwilling soul, the romanticised soul, with unabashed earnestness and claim art a mirror to life, to truth, to reality. Very blasphemous indeed!

So this was truth, cold and hard, as cliché as that was. If truth wasn't a trite business, then the creativity of lies wouldn't be well justified now, no?

"Burgh..."

The angel called his name tenderly from Arceus's domain. She had flowing black hair like the rivulets of Arceus's tears upon sighting the gradual destruction of the world through deceit on deceit, eyes the shade of sapphire, the kind that could summon Kyogre, her hand reaching out towards him, the scent of milk and honey and something roasted wafting into his flaring nostrils, her palm open and inviting, the lines of fortune crisscrossing like the lines of a subway, all-accessible, all-encompassing, and if he'd reach a hand out to hold, to receive the offer of fortune, he thought his luck and life might just turn around this one time, the doom jazz instrumental which had been cut off at midnight might revivify in his mind and show him the true colours of his soul which he had earlier shunned, then the world would be the product of a thousand and one rainbows interacting and intersecting with each other, every hue pleasant, unloathable, yet still unfathomable.

So came her saccharine voice drifting out of the gallows of an apology: "Be sincere. Let them understand you. Let yourself understand them. That's why you make art. That's why you're an artist."

The moans of Giratina's spawns crackled like white noise around him and the silk-covered platforms in the Gym told him he was summoned to the Distortion World after all. It was pointless to beg and seek forgiveness from the devil. It was irrational.

It fucking hurt. Everything was a tousle of gobbledygook.

And then the angel with her blue light.

"You can only ever forgive yourself."

But her lips... They weren't moving! Was this telepathy? Or was it all...

"I told you peeps he's one insane bag of shit!" one of Giratina's spawns exclaimed. "Look at him go!"

Burgh didn't understand what he meant till he saw himself, hands clutching his scalp, a few brown strands on the silken floor, his legs wobbly, his knees digging into the silk, leaving ugly gaps like the patterns on his wooden easel. A thump resounded from behind him, then a series of yaps.

A man in a blue uniform walking a leashed Growlithe entered the Distortion World through the glass portal. Several more followed. Cold metal hit his wrists with a faint click like the trigger of a gun being activated.

Who was this man? Who were these people, their looks withholding nary a trace of emotion, a sliver of doubt? If there was Arceus's realm and Giratina's Distortion World, then there must be a limbo. These must be creatures of limbo.

"Burgh, Gym Leader of Castelia City, Premier Insect Artist, you are under arrest for the murder of the jazz band members last night. We have found evidence of Leaf Blade which only your Leavanny is capable of mastering, on them. You do not have to say anything. But, it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence."

Burgh turned to the angel for help. She, too, was appalled by the sudden turn of events. It wasn't in the fortune she had in store for him to be whisked away into the glass portal, to be delivered unto limbo. A shaking fist held still above her heart; her pledge to save him. That was consolation enough.

In a flicker of city light, Burgh was gone.

"Please tell me you know he didn't do it!" Rae bit her lips.

The Harlequins shook their heads and tutted. Jack told her Burgh was out of the Gym the whole day and didn't come home till past midnight. The possibility of him murdering the jazz band out of blind rage was high. Or he could have been motivated by their works in the gallery and...

"... and he decided to embrace all the sins he finally had the courage to commit, ya know?" said Jack smilingly. "Don't worry about him, girl."

"There must be some way to prove his innocence!" Rae glanced at the spinning cocoons in the Gym. "Maybe there's something he left inside one of them?"

"Why do you care?" Gary dug his ear with a pinky.

"Making amends go two ways."

So they checked every cocoon and every corner of the silk-filled Gym. Could there be something hidden underneath the silk or in plain sight?

There was.

In one of the cocoons, Clarence found a slashed portrait of Burgh with his Leavanny and presented it to everyone. At the back of the portrait were the words "BE THE TRAGIC HERO YOU ALWAYS WANTED" in what seemed like dried blood.

Then the lights went out.