Pokémon, but cultural invasion

The flaws that Tingxiang himself revealed only needed a little prompting...

...

The train arrived on time in the evening, and Hachiko sat on the flowerbed, waiting patiently.

People who frequently travel on this train greeted it one after another, but the person they were waiting for never appeared.

The station manager glanced at his watch, staring at Hachiko on the flowerbed with a sense of foreboding.

The golden-red hues of the setting sun gradually faded on the snow, night fell, and the streetlights came on.

The evening train arrives and departs.

Hachiko remained lying in the same spot.

The son-in-law parked the car on the side of the road and led Hachiko back with a rope: "Buddy, it's time to go home."

Hachiko returned to the doghouse, but still couldn't find Parker.

She peered out through the crack that had been there since childhood; the house lights were so faint in the darkness, and she could hear the constant sobbing of a mother and daughter.

The next day, Andy opened the doghouse and massaged Hachiko: "Is this the right technique? I'll learn it slowly."

She suppressed her grief, tears glistening in her eyes.

"Andy, it's time to go."

Her mother and husband, both dressed in black, urged her on.

Silent camera transitions.

The funeral was held in a white, tranquil cemetery.

The pastor's heavy, solemn words said: "...I left where they were because I knew that wherever I went, others would arrive in time."

"Forever and ever."

Hachiko arrived at the station right on time, staring intently at the flow of people pouring out as the train doors opened.

Its waiting was destined to be in vain.

As the sun sets and the moon rises, snowflakes begin to fall from the sky.

"Listen, you don't need to wait any longer."

The station manager couldn't bear to watch any longer, so he knelt down and said softly, "He won't be coming back."

They stared at each other for a long time.

"Ok."

The administrator patted his head. "Hachiko, do what you want to do."

...

N unconsciously gripped the handrail. To be honest, he wasn't interested in humans, so his gaze was always fixed on the elves on the screen.

Even though he couldn't hear the sound, he could still sense the deep sorrow in Arcanine's expression and movements, despite the distance between the screen and time.

He was similar to many of the spirits with sad pasts he had comforted, yet he was also different.

N looked around and saw that the audience was at a loss and looked distressed.

This film seems to have a magical power, conveying Hachiko's sorrow to the hearts of those around him.

Chapter 180 Worth the Wait (Part 2)

Kate, the wife, stood in the living room, surrounded by stacks of cardboard boxes of all sizes, looking at familiar corners.

She understood that her family would probably never come back.

"Come on, buddy, let's go."

The son-in-law led Hachiko by the hand, while Andy, carrying a box, guided it: "You're coming to live with us, let's go."

Hachiko lay on the back window of the vehicle, watching the house that held memories and warmth speed away under the gloomy sky in the light rain.

It had a new wooden house, a food bowl, and a home, but it looked gloomy and listless.

In the brief moment when his son-in-law opened the door carrying large bags, Hachiko rushed out and ran wildly through the unfamiliar streets, faster and faster.

The son-in-law chased after it, calling out Hachiko's name, but Hachiko paid no heed.

It traveled along the snow-covered railway tracks, occasionally sniffing the ground to find its way.

When they were tired, they would sleep under the stopped trains; when they were thirsty, they would drink from the puddles on the roadside.

Hachiko kept walking, and finally, familiar scenery began to appear in his eyes.

It excitedly returned to its old yard, only to find that strangers had just moved in.

So Hachiko fled without a moment's rest.

It wandered through the streets and alleys, and one by one, the neighbors recognized Hachiko and greeted him.

Finally, Hachiko squatted down in the familiar flower bed, in the familiar spot.

As expected, Andy was driven back to the station by her husband, where she saw Hachiko still standing there, untouched.

"Hachiko, I was so worried about you."

She hugged Hachiko and asked, "Can you come home with me?"

With the leash attached, Andy took it back to its new home.

Hachiko was sullen and wouldn't eat even when fresh food was placed in front of him.

“I miss him too, I think about him every day.”

Andy spoke softly, but as soon as the train whistle sounded, Hachiko seemed to receive some kind of signal and ran to the fence to look into the distance.

"Hachiko, we love you and we hope you will stay."

"But if you insist on going, that's fine with me."

Andy seemed to understand something. She opened the gate, Hachiko licked the back of her hand, and then walked out of the yard.

It stopped and looked back, then ran without hesitation towards the station in its memory.

Hachiko's story quickly spread, attracting curious reporters.

The news of the loyal dog waiting for its deceased owner circulated online, and the station manager received donations from kind-hearted people one after another.

Those familiar with it are also willing to give it water and food.

Hachiko settled down at the station.

Parker's colleagues saw the report in the newspaper and came to talk to Hachiko.

“Our friend Parker will never come back.”

"But if you want to wait, then you should wait."

"Life is still long, Hachiko."

The heart-stirring piano music rang out again, and the familiar melody was filled with sorrow.

Hachiko's upper body and the gnarled, bare tree in the flowerbed entered the frame together.

As the winter snow melts, the bare old trees are instantly covered with green leaves, only to wither and fall away again after a gust of wind, leaving them covered with snow.

The seasons change.

Sprouting and withering, sunrise and sunset, sunshine and rain, scorching heat and bitter cold... countless years have passed.

Hachiko went from being a majestic figure to being old, senile, and balding.

The train station has also undergone renovations, from green trains to maglev trains, but the old flower bed has been preserved.

Kate, now with white hair, revisited the place. She saw the familiar houses and also saw Hachiko in the flower bed.

"Good boy..."

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she choked up, unable to speak.

"Good boy..."

It snowed at night, a heavy snowfall, more magnificent than any other day.

Kate, along with her daughter, son-in-law, and granddaughter, looked through photos of Parker and Hachiko, reminiscing about the past...

Snowflakes were falling heavily outside the window.

The station's dim lights were almost completely extinguished.

Hachiko, who was lying under the abandoned train covered with straw, suddenly raised his head.

Another clattering train passed by; perhaps Parker was on it?

So it stood up, its steps no longer light, its mottled fur no longer able to keep out the cold.

Hachiko walked on the snow-covered railway tracks, his feet trudging through the soft ground, leaving deep and shallow marks that were difficult to pull out.

This journey was more strenuous than any other, and the distance was longer than any other.

The familiar sights and objects on the street were blurred in my eyes, and I could not hear any other sounds in the quiet night.

But Hachiko still reached the old flower bed, swept away the snow with his molting tail, and lay down.

The station exit was decorated with a Christmas tree dotted with stars, and the cold night was silent.

As the last passengers of the evening boarded the door, they wrapped their scarves tightly around themselves and hunched their shoulders as they departed.

Until the last person left and the revolving door closed, it never waited for the person it was waiting for.

Hachiko's eyes gradually narrowed.

The old-fashioned, clanging sound of a train whistle rang in my ears; another train was coming.

The two headlights on the front of the car grew closer and brighter—the warm spring sun hanging high in the sky.

The blinding light illuminated it, Parker's voice echoed, and the figure went from indifference to staring intently.

"Come on, let's go!"

Parker urged it on, calling its name, as the warm sunlight came into view.

Hachiko slowly opened his eyes.

They ran freely along a flowing creek in the spring, leaping off a snow-covered flowerbed and into the arms of Parker, who was wearing a trench coat.

Or perhaps on a summer morning, Parker carries his briefcase and walks through familiar streets.

Parker really came back, and Hachiko finally got to see Parker, who had been waiting for far too long.

He walked out of the station gate a moment later.

"Hachiko!"

His tone was full of surprise, his smile warm, and they embraced tightly.

"I'm sorry, I got home too late..."

"You must have been waiting for a long time..."

"Let's go home. It's a big house with lots of friends. You'll definitely like it..."

"Wang!"

"Wang!"

The clanging of the train tracks grew louder as it approached, and the train headlights illuminated Hachiko's tightly closed eyes. He lay on the flowerbed, his expression utterly peaceful.

The car's headlights swept past it, heading into the distance of the cold night.

The camera gradually pans upwards, revealing a snow-covered town ablaze with lights, which eventually blend into the indigo night sky.

"I never met my maternal grandfather; he died when I was very young. But after hearing his story about Hachiko, I felt a deep connection to him..."

Andy's son's childish voice rang out, but the audience could no longer hear what he was saying.

Uncontrollable sobs rose and fell, sobs and choked cries drowning out any other sound in the screening room.