Chapter Fifteen: Bent and Hunched

Heath soon found himself with no time to ponder such matters, as the morning rush approached and the streets grew busier. Although the weather remained damp and humid, at least there was no thick fog or cold snap today, so a small crowd gathered around Heath’s food cart to buy their morning meals.

Along the way, Heath hurriedly roused the dazed Scallion Duck, who seemed much calmer once the terrifying appearance of Junsha Xi was no longer in sight. Heath couldn’t help but chuckle—this little creature was indeed quite timid.

“Trainer, trainer! Did you know? When Miss Junsha just came by, I actually thought she was a boy!” Zoroark cheerfully squatted beside Heath, grinning.

“Oh? Why’s that?” Heath handed a pancake roll to a customer, pocketed the money, and wondered silently.

“Well, I once read a story where the male lead was dating a Duckbill Charizard, but then a male friend found out and started threatening him,” Zoroark whispered mysteriously.

“Enough, you can stop now. I really don’t want to hear the rest,” Heath said, spreading out a pancake. He already guessed where Zoroark was headed—the male friend was probably jealous of the Duckbill Charizard and intended to make a move on the trainer.

“Then that friend forced the male lead to wear a sailor suit and... you know, get intimate with him,” Zoroark said proudly. Heath froze for a moment, nearly cracking an egg on Scallion Duck’s head.

Heath gave Zoroark a strange look. What kind of bizarre stories had this creature been exposed to? Why would anyone write something so strange? Although human fantasies are free and varied, Heath thought the author of that book should probably see a doctor.

“When I find a psychic legendary Pokémon, I’ll have it cleanse your brain. Maybe it can wash out enough pigment to supply an art student for years,” Heath rolled his eyes. This little guy was truly twisted, and Heath worried whether his other Pokémon would be corrupted by Zoroark’s perverse influence.

After the morning rush died down, Heath finally relaxed a bit. Then he noticed a stooped old man approaching.

“Heath... could you make me a soft meal, please?” When the old man looked up, Heath was surprised to recognize him as Old Master Marzid.

Usually, Master Marzid’s posture was upright and resolute, even in old age—a man of iron will. So why was he suddenly hunched over?

“A soft meal? Certainly, just a moment...” Though puzzled, Heath nodded and began preparing the requested food.

As usual, the rice cooked that morning was turned into egg fried rice, accompanied by a chicken leg that had been slowly braised until tender. Except for the bone, the meat was soft and succulent. Once ready, Heath plated the dish to serve Master Marzid.

Stepping outside, Heath felt a sudden chill. On the table where the old man sat lay a box of moderate size, wrapped in black cloth.

Heath’s mouth fell open, a bad feeling settling in his chest.

“Master Marzid, here’s your fried rice with braised chicken leg... and this is...” Heath placed the food down gently. Master Marzid looked up slowly, his back still bent, eyes bloodshot as if he had been crying.

“Aspen has passed. Nurse Joy did everything she could, but Aspen’s vitality was too depleted to survive the spring,” Master Marzid lowered his head, his large hands covering the box as he caressed it slowly, his voice trembling.

Silence fell. The worst had come to pass—the Charizard that had fought alongside Master Marzid for so long, the one old and weak enough to eat soft meals, was gone.

Though Heath had known Aspen’s condition was grave from the start, he had hoped the Charizard would stay a little longer, to enjoy a peaceful old age alongside its trainer, to savor these rare tranquil days.

Heath gazed at the box—it was surely Aspen’s urn. In the Pokémon world, deceased Pokémon are typically cremated, their ashes buried or kept according to circumstance.

Evergreen City had its own Pokémon cemetery, like most towns. Heath had heard from Ash about the Pallet Town cemetery, where some Pokémon were laid to rest. Yet most people chose to keep their Pokémon’s urns at home.

The League had also established special cemeteries for trainers like Master Marzid.

“I... I plan to take Aspen to Violet Town. When we were on a mission, Aspen was gravely injured and near death. He said if he died, he wanted to be buried in the tower there,” Master Marzid said, his back bent as if he had aged decades overnight.

Heath looked at this weathered old man. When Aspen was alive, Master Marzid was a strong, unyielding figure. Despite age and countless hidden wounds, he walked with his spine straight through Evergreen’s streets. But now...

In Master Marzid’s heart, Aspen was no longer just a Pokémon, but family. He referred to Aspen as ‘he,’ not ‘it.’

“Such a huge Charizard... how did he get so small in the end...” Master Marzid’s trembling hand caressed the box, his body shaking. Heath tried to hold back tears, but his vision blurred.

“Master Marzid, let me pack your meal for you,” Heath said softly, hurrying back to the food cart to place the fried rice and chicken leg into a takeout box, sealing it carefully.

Zoroark, Scallion Duck, and the little Charmander stood quietly inside the cart. Emotionally sensitive Zoroark curled up in the lounge, quietly sobbing. Heath could hear the muffled cries.

After handing the meal to Master Marzid, the old man shakily took Aspen’s urn and left. Heath watched the stooped figure and knew that this once iron-willed man might never straighten his back again.