Author's Note: Hi! A reader introduced me to Rebalanced Red, a redone version of Pokemon FireRed/LeafGreen. And I wanted to go into Anabel's history a bit while I had the chance so this was born. Granted, this game is not finished, so I have a limited amount of the plot. So I'm twisting it some and taking liberties with a lot. Well then, please sit back, relax and enjoy the story of Relic's Anabel, the Salon Maiden of the Battle Frontier!


Chapter One: Duty and Desire

A grave is still a grave when it's covered in flowers.

These words, so old and solemn, were engraved on the small shrine feathered away in the trees of Crown City Park. These words, so old and solemn, were dancing through the head of a teenage girl, fluttering over her eyes with the sparkling of the sun. The girl continued to turn these words over, pillowing her head with her hands as the morning ticked by. She did not stir at the rustle of the leaves or the sounds of the trees picking up.

A grave is covered in flowers.

Her grandmother's grave is covered in flowers. She put new ones there once a week.

When Celebi had gone, she had gone with them, as was the priestess' duty. Celebi was not gone for eternity, the timeless forest had not disappeared, merely wilted. But the woman had wilted, so young, so soon. She had wilted and faded away with the times, at the tender age of sixty-five, and left her, 'Anabel 'Lila' Solidad of Crown City, the mark of the vines.

It was the second act Anabel resented the woman for.

The first was dying at all, and leaving her with so little.

Not that either could be helped. The second her grandmere had fallen ill once, her mother had rushed to produce an heir, despite her job and joy and the patience she had had with her husband. Had rushed to produce her. It was that or be heckled.

Again, understandable.

The rod had not been spared, the child had not been spoiled.

Anabel opened her eyes slowly, blowing at the purple bangs that had fallen in her face. As she did, she heard and felt something play in the grass. "Hello Meema," she greeted. And here she had hoped it had been one of the neighborhood kids, come to play legend beasts and calamity. That was a really horrible game, when she thought about it.

There was a low grunt of dismay. 'See through me yet again.' A small, dark fox pulled herself from the bushes and trotted over on her stubby legs to reach Anabel's chest. 'And stop calling me that, for Arceus' sake.'

She laughed again. "You weren't even hiding, Meema." She pet the Zorua with a languid sort of smile on her face. One of the only things she liked about her hometown, the Pokemon, and their eagerness to teach. They, who pushed her gift from her blood and genes, were always happy to see her. "What are you doing here, I thought it was time to court again."

Meema huffed at her. 'Stop calling me that!' She nosed at Anabel's fingers, despite her agitated mental voice. 'It is, actually, and no one's willing to work with a little fool like me who won't even evolve. I'm starting to think I might have to leave, go somewhere else to find my mate and have eggs. I won't be young forever.'

"Well, if you do that, you'll be less likely to come back than I would." Anabel scratched her floof of hair. "And why can't I call you that? You're my grandmother's oldest, dearest friend. You're all I have left of her. I called her the same, you know, as a toddler."

'And did that not get confusing?' She huffed but made no other protest. 'Aren't you leaving, little lilac?' Her hawkish tone took on something more worrying, more sweet. As a guardian would. It helped her look past the age, and the loss.

Anabel sighed, letting the ball of fluff onto her lap. "They don't want me to. They want me to take the heirship now, bind myself to the earth and nature. I'm only thirteen. Grandmere was in her early forties before she did it. She'd at least birthed my mother before they made her make roots."

'They're just anxious about the city. The area is still recovering from the calamity after all.' Meema licked at the friendly fingers. 'Just as I am and you are. They likely feel your stability will soothe the land. Humans like to believe things like that.'

"Is it not true?" Anabel scratched one ear, realizing that she would be late if she stayed beneath the hidden shrine much longer. Not that that encouraged her any. She wasn't stable. She was a teenager and antsy and easily bored. That was not stable at all.

'Only somewhat true.' Meema hopped off of her chest and began to nudge at her side. 'Nature does as it wills. Sometimes, even with the greatest effort, something cannot be saved. And sometimes, with no magic at all, but simple faith, miracles happen.'

Anabel sat up in a slump and heaved a sigh. "I'm not sure that I can do this."

'So do something else.' Meema nosed her legs. 'Your grandmere did not give you the gift to squander it in this city. I know that.'

"She spoke of it often, I suppose." Anabel sighed and pulled herself to her feet, brushing at the inevitable grass stains on her white and gold clothes. They didn't care, of course, but still. "Never to me."

'Of course not.' Meema leaped to her shoulder. 'You would have left before she could choose you. Now you have a duty and a reason to return to your roots, as she would put it. Old fool.' She nosed Anabel's hair, clearly in an attempt to put it to less mess. 'You would have returned, at least to see the green shine. And you would have blabbed about it to anyone who would listen. Grandmere did not come to this idea easily, little lilac.'

"Now, who is using annoying nicknames?" Anabel sighed and left the comfort of the healing grove. She would have to see them anyway. She didn't have much of a choice. "I saved for it, for everything. I took the online test and passed. I have the ticket. There's nothing stopping me from leaving."

'Nothing except yourself.'

Anabel sighed and nodded. Always the greatest barrier.

A grave is still a grave when it's covered in flowers.

A loss, a lie, an isolation, was what it was no matter how much you tried to cover it.

As she left, Anabel made a few leaves dance for her fingers.


"Just in time, young miss, oh goodness, your clothes." Her caretaker let out a weary sigh. "That is difficult to wash out, you understand."

She shot the man an apologetic look as she passed. That was the only complaint anyone had about it: dealing with the laundry. The fast that she could get grass stains on her clothes was a lucky thing. It was a sign that something was working in all of their efforts.

"Where are Mother and Father?" She avoided using that way of reference most of the time, except when she was mad at them. This was one of those days. The best day for the ceremony was tomorrow. The best day for her to call Celebi, to beg for the restoration of the land and tie herself down to the earth, was tomorrow. It was decided she would do it, before she could even propose her idea. Before she could do what she wished without sneaking about.

I should be fine with it. She waved farewell to the fox as Meema disappeared down the path into the depths of the city, door closing sedately behind them as she walked away. This is what I need to do.

She wanted the flowers to bloom more. She wanted the sun to dazzle her world in light and warm her skin.

Anabel rubbed away tears that weren't there and moved out to the small garden. She exhaled heavily to announce herself, as a teenager ought to do, she told herself. Heavy sighs, dramatic dragging, all of that. So long as she performed her duty, they didn't care what she did in anything else.

But what she wanted to do went so wildly against that. What would it mean for this place if she left?

She would have to decide what she needed to do, and soon.

Her parents greeted her, wrapped their arms around her like nothing was wrong, and she let their warmth and dirt smell envelop her. Her mother touched her hand, touched the mark at her wrist, the twining vines squirming at her fingerpads.

Whether she wanted to accept it or not, it would be for the last time in a long while.


Anabel awoke to the caws of a Honchkrow. Her pale fingers clenched at her futon cover as she looked up at the waxing gibbous moon through her bedroom window. She stared at it for a long while, feeling the languidness in her limbs, the peace in her stomach. She could stay. She could wake up in a few hours, and do her duty. After all, there were flowers everywhere, a bright blue sky. There was little she could see out there that she could not see here.

She thought that, and yet Anabel sat up and rolled to put her futon away. She slid into her closet and dug for the bag she had bought a year before, unused. She pulled out the supplies she had squirreled away or traded for seeds or magic tricks. She packed them away neatly, with the nearly impossible sleeping bag at the bottom. She found her money hidden under a loose mat. Then, she looked on her dresser where her clothes for tomorrow's important evening were folded. She stared at them, some of the delicate threads visible in the light. Pure white and gold, with purple bottoms. To accentuate her hair and skin, her mother had said. Anabel took a deep breath, then exhaled. Then she snatched the outfit and stuffed it away, not caring if it creased. Then, with her survival kit in one pocket, she left her room, silently closing its worn doors behind her. The note sat placidly on the floor.

She did not sneak through a window, or make the floor creak. She just walked the same as she always did, like she meant to be out this late with a bag. When the door opened, it was perfectly normal. Then it was closed, like it had never opened at all.

As she walked, the fear began to grip her stomach. She was going out in the wild. She had to get to the Canalave port in five days to make the ferry to Pallet Town. She had to hope she would survive day one.

'There you are, little lilac.' Meema's voice was low and amused. 'I was beginning to think I would have to wake you up.'

Anabel would have jumped if she wasn't used to telepathic interruptions. 'Meema, why are you out so late?' She did not speak aloud as she normally would, for it was late and it would wake someone up. Also she would have screamed. Not appropriate.

'Don't call me that, little lilac!' The scolding came out half-hearted as the fox's stubby legs rushed to keep up with her long ones. 'Someone has to keep you alive wherever you're going and I need a ticket out of here. Seems fitting, doesn't it?'

Anabel made a noise of discontent. Well, it did kill two birds with one stone. 'Can you get your own food?'

'I've been feeding myself since before you were born, girl! Don't you worry about me now.' Meema's paws strode all the faster. 'Let's just get going.'

Anabel almost looked back. Almost. But at Meema's irritated growls, she didn't. She moved away from her house, out of the city, and as far away from her duty as possible.