Chapter 4: Trust Me, I’m… Me?

Oscar took a deep breath, steadying himself on Lapras' back. The heat radiating from Groudon was unbearable this close, but there were more pressing concerns—like convincing his own Pokémon that he was, in fact, their Trainer.

"Okay, uh... This is going to sound crazy," Oscar began, rubbing the back of his neck. "But you two know me. I mean, I know I don’t look like me, but I am Oz."

Lapras tilted its head, letting out a questioning trill, while Groudon narrowed its molten eyes, a low rumble vibrating through the ground. Why was it that he could somehow understand what they were thinking with only their subtle movements?

"Yeah, I figured that wouldn’t be enough."

Groudon rumbles, the ground beneath it vibrating slightly.

"I—uh—what? That sounded a little too much like 'prove it' for my liking."

Lapras lets out another soft cry, more inquisitive than aggressive.

"You don’t believe me, huh?" Oscar sighed. "Yeah, I figured. I probably wouldn’t either."

Lapras let out another soft noise, shifting in the water. Groudon remained silent, but the intense stare it gave him made it clear, they  were both skeptical.

Oscar held up his hands. "I know, I know! Look, something weird happened. I don’t know why I look different, but I swear to you, I’m the same person." He gestured at his own body. "Just... more belly."

Groudon snorted, steam hissing from its nostrils.

Oscar's eye twitched. "Okay, first of all, rude. Second of all, I am your Trainer. And I can prove it."

Lapras let out a soft chirp, tilting its head as if waiting. Groudon shifted its weight, the ground beneath it cracking slightly.

Oscar took a deep breath. "I gave you both nicknames when I caught you. Lapras, I called you—" He hesitated, the name right on the tip of his tongue. "...Aqua."

Lapras stiffened. Its eyes widened, its movements going still in the water. A soft, familiar trill escaped it, lower this time, almost uncertain.

"I remember how we met." Oscar continued. "A Silph Co. employee gave you to me during Team Rocket’s invasion. The whole place was a mess, and people needed help, but you—you were strong. You helped me fight back against those grunts, and later, you fought alongside me against the Elite Four. We went through so many battles together."

Lapras let out another noise, this time less hesitant, more certain. The recognition was there, deep in its eyes.

Oscar turned to Groudon. "And you. Back when I caught you in Hoenn, I named you... Terra."

A deep tremor rolled through the island. The ground beneath Groudon cracked further as the massive Pokémon froze in place, staring at him. The molten glow in its eyes flickered as it let out a slow, guttural growl.

"Oh, come on. What do you want me to do, list your stats? I don’t exactly have a Pokédex on me!"

Lapras, meanwhile, moves closer to Oscar, nudging his shoulder affectionately.

"You were rampaging," Oscar said, his voice steady despite the heat radiating from Groudon’s body. "Team Magma woke you up—rudely, I might add—and you weren’t happy about it. You were furious, unstoppable. I didn’t have a choice but to fight you, to stop you before things got worse. And when I finally caught you... you calmed down. I remember standing in front of your Ultra Ball, barely believing what had just happened."

A slow, heavy breath escaped Groudon’s nostrils, the heat around it dulling just slightly. The land beneath its feet no longer trembled with unrestrained fury.

Oscar let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. "See? It's really me."

Lapras let out another trill, swimming in a slow circle, its movements lighter than before. Groudon remained tense but no longer radiated pure hostility.

Oscar frowned. "Maybe it’s not just about how I look. It’s about our bond. I raised you both with high affection. Played with you, fed you, traveled with you. That connection didn’t just disappear, even if I look different."

Lapras let out a soft cry and nudged Oscar’s shoulder with its snout. Groudon’s body relaxed, just slightly, the heat around it dulling.

Oscar was about to celebrate when a horrifying thought crept into his mind. ‘What about the Pokémon I didn’t raise with affection?’

His stomach twisted. He had played Pokémon his whole life. He had caught countless Pokémon. But he hadn’t always used them.

What if he summoned one he had ignored? One he had left in the PC or at Home for years without a second thought? Would it still recognize him? Would it trust him?

Or worse what if he summoned one that hated him? Oscar groans, rubbing his face. "Oh no. Oh, this is bad. What if I summon one of my box Pokémon?"

Lapras watches curiously and Groudon tilts its head slightly as they listen to their trainer.

"Like, you guys trust me because I actually raised you. But what if I get one I never even used?"

Seeing Oz distress, Lapras lets out a soft, reassuring cry.

"Yeah, that’s nice, but reassurance won’t help me if I accidentally summon something with zero affection for me and it immediately tries to kill me."

The ground finally began to cool, the heat from Groudon’s awakening dissipating into the air. Oscar stepped onto the now-solid land, his clothes dry thanks to the intense warmth that had surrounded him moments ago. His stomach growled, loudly, reminding him of another problem—he needed food. And water.

Groudon may have expanded the island, but that didn’t mean it had anything edible. Was there vegetation? Fresh water? If not, he was in trouble. He had to figure something out fast.

With a deep breath, Oscar decided to test something. He concentrated, this time intentionally trying to summon a Pokémon that could help him. He focused on food, something that could provide for him.

A Quick Ball materialized in his hand. He hesitated, then tossed it forward.

A flash of light erupted, forming into a large, banana-leaf-winged Pokémon. A Tropius.

Oscar blinked. He knew this Pokémon. It was from Omega Ruby. The same one he had trained back then not much as there were better grass types.

Tropius flapped its massive leaves, shaking itself off before turning to face Oscar. Its eyes squinted slightly, studying him.

Oscar’s heart sank. There was no recognition in them.

Tropius let out a playful, almost mischievous cry before tilting its head. It had an impish nature—he remembered that now. It had always been a little prankster.

But it didn’t seem to know him.

Oscar took a slow step forward, trying again. "Hey, bud. You, uh... you probably don’t recognize me, huh?" He swallowed. "I’m your Trainer. The one who caught you. We traveled together, remember?"

Tropius made a low rumbling noise, its leafy wings twitching. It didn’t react with hostility, but it also didn’t seem convinced.

Oscar exhaled, rubbing his temples. "Great. Just great." He was going to have to prove himself again.

And if this kept happening, it meant not all of his Pokémon would accept him so easily.

The realization sat heavy in his gut. What if, one day, he summoned something that didn’t just fail to recognize him—but outright rejected him? 

Getting a bit depressed, Lapras then called for his attention.

Lapras let out a soft coo, swimming closer, bumping against Tropius lightly as if trying to reassure it. Groudon remained where it was, watching carefully. The three Pokémon exchanged glances, almost as if debating amongst themselves.

Lapras nuzzled against Oscar, its movements full of familiarity and trust. Groudon grumbled but stayed put, its wary stance unchanged, as though waiting for more proof. Tropius, however, huffed playfully, still uncertain.

Lapras nudged Tropius with its snout, making a soft noise. Tropius blinked, then flapped its leafy wings, releasing a few ripe fruit from its neck. It let out a chirp and gestured toward the bananas.

Oscar’s stomach growled again. He didn’t hesitate. "Thanks, bud. Guess that’s a start."

As he took a bite, he realized something. Even if some of his Pokémon didn’t recognize him right away, the bonds they had before still lingered—somewhere deep inside.

The Pokémon, now more at ease, started looking around, their curiosity growing. Lapras let out a questioning trill, and even Tropius glanced around, wings shifting restlessly. Groudon, silent but observant, rumbled deep in its chest.

Oscar blinked. Somehow, he understood what they were asking.

"You guys want to know where we are, huh?" He sighed, looking out toward the endless ocean. "I wish I knew. I woke up drowning in the middle of the ocean, and next thing I knew, Lapras saved me. That’s all I got."

The Pokémon exchanged glances again, processing his words. Whatever this place was, none of them had the answers.

Oscar sat on a rocky ledge, chewing on one of Tropius’ bananas as he tried to process everything. Food was no longer a concern, but water—that was another problem entirely. He needed fresh water, and unless he wanted to risk dehydration, he had to find a solution fast.

He glanced at his Pokémon. Lapras floated idly near the shore, content. Tropius stretched its leafy wings, still eyeing him with playful curiosity. Groudon stood near the island’s edge, staring out at the vast ocean, its molten eyes narrowed in deep thought.

Oscar sighed. “Alright, we need another water type. So… let’s see if this summoning thing actually listens to me.”

He closed his eyes and focused. This time, he didn’t just wait for a Poké Ball to appear at random—he actively thought about a Water-type. Something that could purify or create fresh water. The image of a graceful, serpentine form came to mind.

A Poké Ball materialized in his hand.

It was a Net Ball.

Oscar’s breath hitched. ‘Please let this be one I trained well.’ He tossed the ball forward, and in a flash of light, a large, elegant Pokémon emerged.

A Milotic.

The shimmering Water-type coiled gracefully, her scales glistening in the sunlight. She blinked slowly, eyes calm and unreadable as it examined her surroundings. Then, her gaze landed on Oscar.

For a moment, there was silence.

"Oh, you are way fancier than I remembered." Only for it to be broken by the trainer.

Then, Milotic let out a long, slow hiss.

Oscar’s stomach sank. Oh no.

Lapras perked up, tilting its head in confusion. Tropius flapped its wings, as if sensing tension. Groudon, still standing at the island’s edge, didn’t move, but Oscar could feel its eyes shifting toward them.

Oscar swallowed. “Uh… hey, buddy. You, uh, don’t look happy to see me.”

Milotic’s tail flicked sharply, sending a small wave of water onto the shore. It didn’t lunge at him, but its body remained tense, its elegant form coiled slightly, like it wasn’t sure whether to flee or fight.

Oscar ran a hand down his face. Great. Just great. He tried to think back. Milotic… when did I catch this one? He knew it was from Scarlet as he didn't bother raising its Beauty in Omega Ruby or Brilliant Diamond.

Then it hit him.

He never raised it from a Feebas.

This wasn’t one of his affectionate, carefully trained team members with a high level and max affection. This was a Milotic he had caught fully evolved, probably in some random Terra Raid.

Milotic did not know him. And it had no reason to trust him.

Oscar groans, rubbing his face "Oh. Oh no. I never raised you from a Feebas, did I? You were one of those Pokémon I caught fully evolved and just kinda forgot about."

Milotic narrows her eyes at the information.

"Wow. That sounds way worse when I say it out loud." Oscar exhaled slowly. “Okay, I get it. You don’t recognize me. That’s fair. But listen—I need your help.” He gestured to the barren island. “We don’t have fresh water. You’re a Water-type, so I was hoping you and Lapras could—”

Milotic flicked her tail, turning her head away in an almost dismissive motion. It wasn’t outright hostile, but it wasn’t eager to cooperate either.

"Oh, cool. Yeah. Ignore me. That’s fine."

Lapras let out a soft coo and swam closer. It made a few chirping noises, as if trying to reassure Milotic. 

Oscar: "See? Aqua’s on board. You guys are both Water-types. Don’t you have, like, a secret fish language or something?"

Tropius, curious, flapped its wings and nudged a banana toward the Water-type.

"Tropius, buddy, I appreciate the effort, but I don’t think bribing it with fruit is gonna work."

Milotic hesitated, flicking its gaze between them. Its posture was still tense, but it wasn’t retreating anymore.

Groudon, however, let out a low rumble. The air around it shimmered slightly with heat, but it didn’t move from its spot.

"Whoa, whoa! Big guy, let’s keep the boiling, the ocean thing in check, yeah?"

Groudon simply snorts but stays put.

“Not gonna lie, kinda relieved you’re just watching instead of stomping over here." Oscar sighed. He needed to earn Milotic’s trust. Fast.

“Alright,” he muttered, standing up. “I’ll prove myself to you.”

Milotic watched him carefully, as if waiting to see what he would do next.

Oscar had a feeling this was going to be harder than he thought.

Tropius Point of View

The world flickered into existence in a burst of light. The air smelled different—salty, humid, and hot. 

Tropius stretched his leafy wings, shaking off the weird stiffness that always came with being inside that tiny ball. Ugh. He hated that thing. How long had he even been in there?

Wait.

Where was he?

Tropius flapped his wings lightly, getting his bearings. He was on an island—rocky, barren, surrounded by endless water. Not the worst place he’d ever been, but definitely not his usual stomping grounds.

Then his gaze landed on the human standing in front of him.

He squinted.

Who… was this?

Tropius narrowed his eyes, tilting his head as he studied the stranger. He smelled familiar. Sounded familiar, too. But he didn’t look right. His face wasn’t familiar. His scent wasn’t familiar. Even the way he held himself—hesitant, almost nervous—didn’t match the confident, battle-hardened Trainer Tropius vaguely remembered.

Tropius tilted his head. His Impish mind buzzed with curiosity. Maybe this was a trick? A prank? Oh! Maybe the real Trainer was hiding, watching from the shadows, testing him!

That had to be it.

He let out a playful, mischievous cry, flapping his wings and swaying a little for effect. Let’s see where this goes.

The human, who was apparently named Oz, the same name as my trainer, took a slow cautious step forward, hands raised like he was approaching a skittish Deerling. "Hey, bud. You, uh... you probably don’t recognize me, huh?"

Tropius chirped, not answering. He wasn’t not recognizing him—he was just choosing not to. Much more fun this way.

The human kept talking, clearly nervous. "I’m your Trainer. The one who caught you. We traveled together, remember?"

Tropius huffed. Maybe? There was a Trainer, wasn’t there? Someone who had thrown a weird little ball at him one day. He remembered traveling, remembered fighting, remembered... bananas. Oh, definitely remembered the bananas. But this guy? Nope. Nothing.

Then the Lapras—oh hey, that one looked familiar!—let out a soft coo and nudged him. Tropius blinked as Lapras made a few chirping noises. Huh. Okay. If she was cool with him, then maybe there was something to this.

Still, best to be sure before making any big decisions.

He flapped his wings, rustling the fruit around his neck, and let a few ripe bananas drop onto the ground. A test. If this supposed Trainer took the offering, then maybe he was worth trusting.

The guy stared for a second, then, without hesitation, grabbed one. “Thanks, bud. Guess that’s a start.”

Tropius’ wings twitched. Hmmm. Not bad. Not bad at all. A total faker wouldn’t have known the rules of the Banana Exchange™. Maybe this really was his Trainer, just... weird-looking now.

He’d play along. For now.

Still watching carefully, Tropius turned his attention to the others. Lapras was sticking close to the Trainer, already convinced. 

Soon my eyes landed on the Lord of the Land bringing me great shock that Groudon was simply standing at the island’s edge, being all dramatic and brooding. For a god that is known to ravage the world it sure was quiet.

Maybe Tropius should be more cautious. Maybe he should keep his distance, stay skeptical.

But where was the fun in that?

The guy was trying so hard. And it was kinda entertaining to watch.

So when the human tried summoning another Pokémon, Tropius decided to stick around and see what would happen.

A Net Ball materialized in Oscar’s hand, and Tropius watched with mild amusement as he tossed it forward.

A sleek, elegant Milotic emerged in a flash of light, its scales shimmering in the sunlight. It was beautiful. Majestic. The very picture of grace.

And it immediately hated Oscar.

Tropius flapped his wings, leaning in slightly. He didn’t remember this one from before, but she looked fancy. All shimmery and elegant and clearly unimpressed with whatever was happening. Her eyes locked onto the Trainer, cool and unreadable.

Then she hissed.

Tropius’ wings twitched again. Oooooh, drama.

Trainer-Guy groaned, rubbing his face. "Oh. Oh no. I never raised you from a Feebas, did I? You were one of those Pokémon I caught fully evolved and just kinda forgot about."

Milotic’s tail flicked sharply.

Tropius wheezed internally. Oh, wow. That sounded awful. This guy was not doing himself any favors.

Tropius let out a snorting laugh, flapping his wings as the Milotic’s sharp hiss cut through the air. Oh, this was good.

Oscar sighed and rubbed his face. "Wow. That sounds way worse when I say it out loud."

Milotic’s eyes narrowed.

Tropius decided now was a perfect time to intervene.

He grabbed a banana with his mouth, waddled over, and dropped it at Milotic’s side. A peace offering. A little “Hey, don’t murder him yet, this could be funny” gift.

Trainer-Guy sighed. "Tropius, buddy, I appreciate the effort, but I don’t think bribing it with fruit is gonna work."

Tropius snorted. Oh, come on. A good banana solved everything.

Milotic flicked her gaze between them, still tense, still glaring, still being all mysterious.

Meanwhile, Groudon rumbled lowly, heat shimmering around it. Tropius flicked an ear toward it. Uh-oh. Big guy was getting antsy.

Trainer-Guy immediately panicked. "Whoa, whoa! Big guy, let’s keep the boiling the ocean thing in check, yeah?"

Tropius swayed side to side, highly entertained. This was getting good.

But as funny as all this was, a nagging thought lingered in the back of his mind.

If this was really his Trainer—and he was pretty sure now that it was, even if he was weird and different—then that meant something big was going on. Something not normal. And not normal could be dangerous.

Tropius flapped his wings lightly, looking around. No other humans. No other Pokémon except the ones here. Just an empty, unfamiliar island in the middle of an endless sea.

Yeah. Something was definitely weird about all this.

For now, though? He’d wait. Watch. Play along. See how things unfolded.

And if things got really bad?

Well.

He did still have his bananas.