Chapter 1

Chisai's POV:

"Finish it up, Charmander! Use Ember one more time!"

There was a blast of hot fire, and the opposing Pokemon collapsed to the ground. The orange lizard standing victorious gave a triumphant, squeaky roar before leaping into its trainer's arms.

"That's my buddy! We really showed him, huh? Let's get out of here... the first gym isn't far!"

And just like that, the boy and his starter were gone. The little brown Pokemon they had practically decimated was forgotten in chatter, laughter, and promises of a gym badge to come.

"Woah. You got completely wrecked there, huh, Chisai? You alright?" another of the small Pokemon's species hurried up, pulling the other to his feet. Covered in scratches and his spirit crushed, he looked nothing like a tough starter. Just a pathetic creature trying to look powerful.

"I guess. Thanks, Scuttle, for hiding in the bush while I protected you. It was really helpful," the Pokemon, Chisai, glared at his companion. Scuttle looked away, thumping his tail against the ground a few times.

"Sorry... I was just really scared of that Charmander. It could breathe fire! The toughest thing I can do is scratch it," Scuttle tried to defend himself, but it was pretty hopeless. Chisai looked down at his smaller friend with an exasperated glower. However, he supposed that he couldn't blame him.

They were both Sentrets, a normal-type Pokemon that very few, if anybody, desired to own. They weren't very appealing, quite weak, and to round it all off, just useless in general. Chisai shook his head gloomily. Useless. That was the word. But he shrugged off his defeat with gusto, turning to face his friend. Instead of chiding Scuttle for his cowardliness, he simply flicked his tail, signaling him to follow. Together, the two Pokemon plodded into the brush, shoving past branches and jumping over logs. They picked up speed as they went along, chittering to one another about forest gossip. The friends knew the way back to their home by heart.

"Think we'll ever get caught? I'd love to have a nice trainer myself. Sure, the ones we usually meet are bullies, but not all trainers are terrible. I'd love to compete a Pokemon competition, honestly!" the smaller Sentret breathed hard in between words, slowing slightly as they neared home. Chisai laughed heartily.

"A trainer? Please. I'd prefer to live out my life in a forest even if somebody actually wanted me. Y'know, when I'm older, I'm planning to start my own warren. Find a few good does, settle down..." he trailed off, lost in thought. They ran on in silence for awhile longer before Scuttle added something else with a tiny grin.

"That sounds pretty nice. When you do, call me. I'll be right alongside you!" they both skittered to a stop, and the small one puffed out his fluffy brown chest. "I'm pretty tough, if I do say so myself! I'll protect you!"

The larger one didn't point out how he'd fled from the trainer and his fire-type starter like a Weedle from a hungry Spearow. Instead, he nodded and forced a smile of his own onto his face.

"That's good. We'll need..." he looked over the rather bony frame of his companion, "powerful... warriors like you."

"Thanks! You're awesome, Chisai!" he was positively beaming as he looked over the area they called home. It was a peaceful place, and Sentrets grazed here and there, others browsing from the berry bushes around the clearing. It sloped slightly upwards, and in that mild incline were dozens of holes. Burrows, you could call them.

"Back to the great Caterflight warren. Goodie," the larger of the two sighed. Scuttle looked over at him and chuckled squeakily.

"Race you to the Oran berry bushes!" he joked. Chisai dropped down to all fours and waved his tail in the air.

"Oh, you're on!" he growled playfully, and the two shot across the clearing towards the leafy bush, Chisai slightly behind. But behind that cheery smile was a sad heart.

Sometimes he just wanted to feel... powerful.

Setchi's POV:

"YAHHHHHHH!" a heavy thud resounded throughout the forest as a body dropped to the ground. It had landed on its back, and now it rolled over and shook its bright purple fur free from grass and dirt.

It looked up, groaning loudly, for the Tamato berry it had been trying to reach was still attached stubbornly to a thin branch near the top.

"I-it's okay, Setchi. You don't have to get it for me... there's some pretty nice oak roots near our hole..." the tiny Rattata beside him, her fur a dull greenish color, looked up at him and smiled shyly.

"No, you asked if I could get it, and I'm going to get it. You're a growing little Rattata, and you need your strength. Oak roots won't do it!" Setchi replied determinedly.

"You just don't give up, do you, big bro?" she sighed. But behind the grumpy look, the young male could see happiness.

"Of course, Angel. Only the best for my baby sister!" he smiled as he attempted to climb the slick bark once again. And once again, he got close enough to touch it, and then he tumbled to the ground. With another sigh, he sat back on his haunches and cleaned off his two whiskers with thorough licks.

They were both Rattatas, normal-type rodents that absolutely everyone despised. Ever since their mother had been killed, Setchi, who was no older than a yearling, had done his best to take care of his shiny little sister, Angel. Ironically, even though she was shiny, nobody took any notice of her. Which was fine by him... he wanted nothing to do with humans or predator Pokemon.

He looked up angrily at the bright red, spiky berry that seemed to taunt him as it bobbed in the mild breeze.

"Come on, bro, let's go home. I bet I can whip together a really good mushroom pastie from the garden for us to share!" she nudged him in a friendly manner. The taller purple rodent smiled down at her and rumpled the fur on her small head.

"You've always been a great cook. I can't wait to try it!"

Angel scurried off, and Setchi watched her run for a moment. The limp in her right haunch was still clearly visible, but on the bright side, she seemed to be coping well. She didn't trip any more as far as he could tell. The Pokemon cast one last glance at the berry before following her.

Sometimes he just wanted to feel... needed.

Flit's POV:

The bird dove through the town, dipping in and out of buildings and skimming the shiny tops of Pokemon-drawn carriages. She squawked loudly, chanting her name in a long drawl of delight.

"WOOHOO! This is awesome! Look at these wings of mine go!" she gazed in admiration at her red wings, fluttering up and down faster than a rain-assisted Magikarp. She tucked them into her furry black body and dropped into a swift dive, her keening cry echoing everywhere.

"Do you guys see me, the great Flit? Check me out! Pretty neat, right? Not every flying-type can go this fa- OW!"

The bird was knocked out of the sky by a rock, and she careened towards the earth. With a loud clattering, she landed directly in an open trash can and shrieked. Pain shot up her left wing, which was pinned beneath a shattered brick. She yanked it free, jumped out of the trash can, and landed on its metal rim. But it wasn't very stable, and after a short teetering, the flying-type fell off onto the cold concrete.

"Haha! Score! That's my eighth Spearow today, guys! Did you see it fall? I totally got it mid-dive!" a masculine voice laughed. A few other raucous voices joined in, all talking at once. The bird could only hear bits and pieces of their haughty conversation.

"...crumpled into a ball!"

"Do you think it landed in the trash..."

"...wings! I mean, they're just a disgusting tint of red..."

"...try and hit another one!"

The voices slowly faded, and the bird struggled to her talons. She miserably spread out her left wing, which was scuffed up and bleeding. She heaved a sigh of relief when the trusty appendage assisted in lifting her from the ground. Just bad bruising, she suspected. She looked up at the sky, which was slowly becoming as red as her wing... or the blood on it... with the arrival of the sunset.

She, Flit, was a Spearow, a dully colored flying-type that people waved away when they passed by. They usually had awful temperaments and therefore tended to live alone, unlike most birds. And although Flit did her best to look cool, nobody seemed to notice her attempts.

"I guess they didn't like my flying..." she mumbled gloomily. She'd thought the dive to be one of her very best. Why had somebody knocked her down? She slowly flew out of the alleyway and headed high up to survey her sleeping options.

"Jerks. They just don't have any appreciation for talent. That's alright... others do, right? I'll just go sleep in that tree in the park for tonight. Get some rest. Unless the Pidgeys kick me out..." Flit slowly flew off.

Sometimes she just wanted to feel... admired.

Ago's POV:

"Nice job, dude! You knocked that tree down real nice!" a compliment rang out from the river. A fluffy brown Pokemon looked over, raising one stubby paw to wave good-naturedly.

"Thanks... uh... bro! Should I take it to the left or right corner of the dam?" he hollered, jumping up to put his front paws on the top of his fallen trunk and therefore see better. Even then, he had no idea who this other Pokemon was. They were of the same species, but that was all he could tell.

"The right! The left corner's pretty full at the moment!" the Bidoof replied loudly. He yelped as the floating log beneath him shifted, and splayed out his paws to get a better grip. It continued to float down the river towards a huge wooden structure in the distance.

"Alright, thanks!" the Pokemon, known as Ago, headbutted the tree with a grunt, and it rolled ever so slightly. He headbutted it again and again, and slowly it moved towards the lazy current. Before long, it splashed in. He jumped on top as it slowly headed towards the place he'd come to fondly call home.

Before long, his log bumped into other logs being held up by... something. Ago groaned audibly. Great. Traffic.

"Alright, I'm going have to sen your log down a side stream, whatever-your-name-is, because it's not quite long enough to fit in there. Go find a shorter one, ten hut! This dam won't build itself! Next log!" a Bibarel stood up on his hind legs, balancing precariously on a tiny grass island. He used his flat tail to steady himself.

A few logs later, it was Ago's turn. He floated into view of the Bibarel overseeing the work, who quickly ran his paws over the bark and snapped off a few twigs.

"Sorry, your log is TOO long. Put it down the middle stream, because we can definitely gnaw it down, whatever-your-name-is. Hurry! Night is coming soon, and when night comes we can't do work!" the larger Pokemon snapped. Ago rubbed his head in confusion with his paw.

"You don't know who I am?" he asked skeptically. The Bibarel sharply shook his head as he helped push his log away.

"Nope! Don't know who you are, nor do I care. I've got dozens of you to keep track of, I don't need to add names to the mix. Off you go!"

Ago's log floated downstream, and he looked at his reflection in the water gloomily.

He was a Bidoof, a despised Pokemon for its ugly appearance. It looked somewhat like a fat beaver. Nobody ever took the time to think about how hard they worked, day after day, building dams that were often destroyed by humans.

Sometimes he just wanted to feel... appreciated.

Kuro's POV:

It was pitch black in the cave, and the bat frequently ran into cold stone walls. But he didn't care. It wouldn't even matter if it was the middle of the day... he had no eyes. He couldn't see.

"Ow! That's the fourth time I've run into that same stupid stalagmite. I can't wait to evolve. Sure, the huge mouth sucks, but at least I'd have vision. I just want to be able to see a tasty Cutiefl- ow! AGAIN? Come on!" the Zubat also didn't care that he was talking to himself. Over the sound of hundreds of thousands of Zubats all screeching to 'see,' nobody noticed one that seemed mildly out of place.

He shot off another squawk, and a picture formed in his mind. It was just greenish lines on a black canvas, but it gave him an idea of where he was going. He dodged a few more rocks with clumsy wing beats, and suddenly began to fly in place as he smelled something delicious.

"Ooh! Neat! A little group of Cutieflies! I'm coming for you, bugs! You will fear the name Kuro!" he laughed, diving towards them. But abruptly, his presumed meal was mobbed by a dozen other Zubats, all screeching and hollering for the tiniest scrap and running into one another. Within fifteen seconds, every one of the bug-types was gone, and so were the Zubats, flying off to find more to fill their stomachs. Kuro was left flapping through the air, dumbfounded.

"Confound it! Why will nobody let me get a single bug for myself? I'm going to starve to death here... OW!"

Again, Kuro was knocked aside by a rather bold Zubat, who was flying up to snag a Cutiefly hiding in between two boulders. He sighed heavily, scenting the air for more food, and headed in the opposite direction.

"I'm just going to end up like three quarters of all the Zubats in the world... dead by starvation." he thought aloud miserably.

Kuro was a Zubat, a creature shunned from society for its irritating nature, commonness, and just all around weakness. Just like the other millions of Zubats in the world, he probably wouldn't live until a Golbat unless he was especially strong. Which he wasn't.

Sometimes he just wanted to feel... loved.

Unknown to all five of these despised, common Pokemon, perhaps they would all get what they desired, with a little help from each other...