14. Move

The morning light filtered through, gentle and warm, casting a golden hue that heralded the start of a new day.

It was the kind of light that made one want to linger in "bed", basking in its comforting embrace. Beatrice, cocooned in this warmth, felt a rare sense of peace. She lay close to someone, wrapped in a sense of safety and protection that she had long forgotten. The sensation of being shielded, of having someone to rely on, was a distant memory, one she hadn't dared to revisit in a long time.

It had been too many moons since Beatrice felt this good. The burdens she carried, the constant vigilance, and the ever-present fear had kept her from truly resting. But now, sleep had come to her like a gentle wave, washing over her with a serenity that was both foreign and welcome. She hadn't realized how deeply she had missed this feeling until it enveloped her, and she found herself wishing it would never end.

Sleep was so pleasantly peaceful that she didn't want to open her eyes. She wanted to remain in that dreamlike state where everything was perfect, where she felt safe and cherished. But her brain, always her brain, had other plans. It tugged at her consciousness, reminding her that dreams, no matter how sweet, were not reality. Reluctantly, she began to stir.

Her eyes fluttered open, the dream slipping away as reality came into focus. She was in a pocket, the rough fabric of a black trench coat surrounding her. The familiarity of it brought her back to the present moment. As her senses adjusted, she looked up and saw Andre's chin, covered in a rough stubble, moving rhythmically as he paced. She realized that he had been pacing when she fell asleep and was still pacing now, his movements steady and deliberate.

The swaying motion of the pocket was oddly soothing, a gentle rock that contrasted with Andre's determined strides. Beatrice had fallen asleep to this motion, and now, waking up, she found it both comforting and disorienting. She could feel the rhythmic rise and fall, the occasional jolt when Andre changed direction. It was like being on a boat, cradled by the waves, yet grounded by the solid presence of the man who carried her.

Thomas spoke in that low, matter-of-fact voice she had come to love. It was a tone that conveyed both strength and tenderness, a voice that was always soft and familiar when he spoke to her. Despite the fact that he rarely removed those big, cool glasses, she could always sense the softness in his gaze.

As he stopped pacing, he pulled back his trench coat slightly, allowing her to see him better and to take in their surroundings. The dense woods around them were still and quiet, a cocoon of nature that contrasted with the urgency of their situation.

"How did you sleep?" he asked kindly, his rough features softening into a rare expression of gentleness.

Beatrice felt a warmth spread through her at his question. She appreciated the way he showed concern, his tough exterior melting away in these moments of intimacy. She looked up at him, noting the calmness in his eyes, the way he seemed to shield her from the harshness of the world.

"Really good, your wearing is very comfortable, Big A," she replied, her voice reflecting the genuine gratitude she felt.

Thomas nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. It was a smile she cherished, one that reminded her of his unyielding support. Yet, she knew there was another side to him, one she had only glimpsed but never fully witnessed. The thought of his anger, of how truly terrifying he could be when provoked, sent a shiver down her spine. She had seen flashes of it before, and it was enough to understand the depths of his fury.

But in this moment, there was no anger, only a deep, abiding care that he showed in his own, understated way. She felt secure with him, knowing that while his temper could be fearsome, his kindness and protection were just as powerful.

"It's called a 'trench coat,'" he corrected her gently. Beatrice knew a little about human things but was always eager to learn more. Humans were fascinating, capable of creating such intricate and useful items that often left her in awe. She understood the basic concept of clothes—who didn't?—but the vast variety of them sometimes overwhelmed her. It was no wonder she didn't recognize what Andre was wearing.

The trench coat was a large, imposing garment, especially on someone of Andre's stature. As she examined it, her eyes drifted to his purple shirt. She noticed something missing and finally realized what it was. He wasn't wearing that dark thing with the dark green badge.

"Big A, where's that thing you had in the middle?" she asked, pointing at his chest.

Andre raised an eyebrow. "Hmm? You mean the HighTrix? It's still there, Beatrice," he replied.

"How? I can't see it," she said, pulling herself out of the pocket a little to get a better look. She peered closely, scrutinizing his shirt, but saw nothing. There was something peeking out from under his shirt, but she hadn't paid much attention to it.

"Seeing isn't necessary. Listen," he said. He reached his large hand to his broad chest, and his fingertip touched something hard and metallic, something that protruded slightly. He tapped it a few times. "It's under my shirt."

"How come?" she asked, puzzled. She had always assumed that thing never came off because she had never seen him without it.

"I can move the HighTrix anywhere on my body and change its size at will," he explained, choosing his words carefully so she could easily understand. "Also, it's called a 'Dial.'"

"Dial, got it!" she nodded, committing the term to memory. She fidgeted in the pocket, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Thomas noticed her restlessness. "Let me give you a hand," he offered, extending his palm toward her. She eagerly jumped out of the pocket onto his large palm. Gently, he lifted her to his shoulder, and she sprang onto it with ease. "There you go."

A warm breeze caressed her face, ruffling her fur as she soaked in the morning air. She stretched luxuriously, enjoying the ample space on his broad shoulders. They were wide enough for her to do a few playful jumps, and she was starting to appreciate the new perspective. Being high up gave her a good view, and she found she liked looking down on everything below. If she wanted, she could even climb onto his head.

"How far away are we?" she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity.

"Almost there," Thomas replied.

Suddenly, a sharp feminine voice cut through the morning calm, making Beatrice jump slightly. "RUN!"

Thomas and Beatrice both turned towards the source of the sound. Beatrice strained her eyes to see. In the distance, a girl with blonde hair was running toward them. She wore a white T-shirt and blue pants, clutching some device that Beatrice didn't recognize. She kept shouting, "Run! You there, run! Swarm Bedrils!"

"Bedril?!" exclaimed Beatrice. She knew about these flying bugs. She had often stumbled into their territory and really disliked them. It was best not to fight them; she didn't want Andre to get hurt. And she didn't want this girl to get hurt either. "Big A, quick, we need to run!"

But Thomas did the opposite. He smirked slightly, starting to roll up his sleeves. "Don't worry. I've got it under control. But you'd better get down and move to the side."

" Wha... What are you going to do?" she asked, her worry mounting. The peaceful morning was rapidly unraveling. She knew Thomas was strong, but she still didn't want this confrontation. Despite her protests, Thomas brought his open palm up to her.

"A little exercise, Beatrice," he said, lowering her gently to the ground. "Now step a little to the side." Reluctantly, she did as he asked, moving away from him.

***

"Shit, shit, shit!" Viola mumbled hastily, trying not to trip as she ran. The swarm of Beedrill was already on her heels. She had only wanted to take a few pictures and had carelessly disturbed the Pokémon. She had gotten up so early in the morning, hoping for the perfect shot, and now the Beedrill had ruined everything.

She should have stayed in town, where it was safe. But now it was too late for regrets.

Ahead of her, in the distance, she saw a figure dressed in black walking straight ahead. Who else would be out at this hour? She thought she was the only fool awake this early.

*BUZZ*

The buzzing behind her grew louder, more menacing.

"Shit!" she exhaled tiredly, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The Beedrill were closing in. She needed to warn the man up ahead. "RUN!" she shouted at the top of her voice, desperate to get his attention. She was still far away but hoped he would hear her.

The man stopped. "Run! You there, run! Swarm of Beedrill!" she shouted again, clutching her camera tightly as it bounced against her chest.

The man turned around. To her surprise, he knelt down on one knee.

"Why the hell did you sit down? Run!" she muttered to herself. Couldn't he hear her? Maybe she hadn't yelled loud enough as the first time. "Damn it," she cursed under her breath.

The buzzing grew louder still, the Beedrill almost upon her. She pushed herself to run faster, hoping against hope that the man would realize the danger and take action.

Viola kept running, her legs burning with exhaustion. She had been running for what felt like an eternity, and the fatigue was catching up with her. She could barely breathe, each gasp for air a struggle. She desperately hoped that the bearded man with glasses up ahead would send out his Pokémon to fend off the swarm of Beedrill.

As she drew closer, her eyes widened in disbelief. From a distance, he had seemed like an ordinary man, but now, as she approached, she saw the truth.

He wasn't just a man. He was a giant. A colossal figure that towered over everything around him. She would have stopped to take pictures if it weren't for the damned Beedrill buzzing menacingly behind her.

Her second wind kicked in, fueled by a mix of adrenaline and sheer desperation. She ran straight for him, each step feeling heavier than the last. " *Huff*... *Huff*..." she panted, leaning over and gulping for air as she reached him. It was the longest run of her life. She inhaled deeply, lifting her head to look up at the towering man.

And gosh, what the hell... " I'm sorry...YOU'RE SO BIG," she exclaimed, her voice a mix of awe and disbelief. She felt incredibly small next to him, her head barely reaching his waist. His rough but handsome face was set in a calm, determined expression. The rolled-up sleeves of his long trench coat revealed muscular arms that looked like they could crush steel. She couldn't help but notice how his palms were bigger than her face.

"Yes, I've noticed, Miss," he replied confidently, his voice low and velvety. Viola found herself liking his tone. "Now please step back a bit and hold your camera," he instructed briefly, without further ado.

What was this handsome giant of a man going to do?

Viola watched with increasing amazement as the man moved a little away from her. God, he was so tall. The Beedrill were approaching at high speed, their angry buzzing growing louder. But the man was walking straight towards them. He probably wants to fight them! "Where's your Pokémon?! Hurry up and summon it, the Beedrill are coming, look!" she shouted, pointing at the swarm of yellow flying bug Pokémon.

But the man remained silent, taking another step forward. And then another, and then another.

The Beedrill were close now, their buzzing filling the air. *Bzzz*, she could hear them clearly.

Then, abruptly and incredibly fast, the man jerked from his stance, taking several powerful strides forward. Viola barely saw the movement as he spread his mighty arms wide and slammed them together with incredible force.

*CLAP*

*WHOOSH*

The impact was deafening. The sheer force behind his clap sent a shockwave through the air, creating a powerful gust that knocked the Beedrill back. They were thrown off course, their formation disrupted, and many were sent tumbling to the ground, stunned and incapacitated.

Pokemon was defeated by man with his bare hands.

Swarn of them. By. A giant man. With just hands.

"Holy... "

Viola stood there, mouth agape, her camera hanging limply from her neck. The giant man had single-handedly fended off the Beedrill with nothing but his own strength. The air was filled with the echoes of the mighty clap and the diminishing buzz of the retreating Beedrill.

"Wh-wh-WHAT?! "

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(A/N) Viola here. This chapter is more words filter, and little warm relationship of our two. I were thinking wha to do next. It is the reason why chapter so late. I figured out how to get Thomas to go to another city. And what he would do next.