Levincia more than lived up to its billing as one of Paldea's biggest cities—its bustle was nothing like the smiths' scrap yard.
The moment they stepped inside the city limits, the tide rolled in: lively voices, music floating from shopfronts, rich food aromas on the air. Unique buildings lined the streets; people in all kinds of clothes strolled by, relaxed, many with a cute Pokémon at their side.
For Jason—who'd lived in the wild since crossing over—being back in a town felt especially soothing. As a former human, he wasn't exactly dazzled by cities. But for Gast, this was a whole other world. Her body instinctively drew closer, sticking to him. She'd spent her whole life out in the sticks—never seen this many humans or this many strange and wonderful… things.
"Don't be scared. I'm here." He nudged her gently.
She blinked, blank. "Scared? I'm excited! Jason, can I go spook some humans?"
He rolled his eyes. "No." Such a little gremlin…
Up ahead, Cynthia noticed Gast's fidgeting, slowed her pace, and—without seeming to—screened the crowd to carve a bit of space for the two Pokémon behind her.
Thwarted, Gast craned her head, curious gaze ping-ponging everywhere. "Jason! Look!"
"That iron thing! It has two discs and runs so fast!"
A boy whistled by on a bicycle.
"That's a bicycle," Jason said. "Humans use them to get around."
With Cynthia nearby, he didn't bother hiding his speech.
Gast nodded like she got it, then pointed again. "And that! There are lots of people moving in that glowing box! Are they trapped?!"
She meant the giant TV in an electronics shop window.
"That's a television. Those are images, not real people."
"Images?"
"Fake—drawn."
"Wow! Drawn fake people can move!"
Her worldview refreshed itself every few steps. Humans' world—what fun!
She pointed at the automatic glass doors, then a singing trash can on a corner—questions rapid-fire, endless. Jason happily explained, feeling like a dad walking his overly curious kid.
Cynthia listened in quiet. She couldn't hear Gast, but she could hear Jason's answers, and could imagine the adorable chaos of questions. The faintest smile tugged at her lips. For someone who spent her life between ruins and the arena, this calm, warm slice-of-life felt… novel.
Then—
"Jason, look! That yellow thing! It floats like me!"
Not far ahead, a vendor held a mass of multicolored balloons—the most eye-catching, a Pikachu balloon.
"Is it a Pokémon? Why is it tied by a string? Are they going to sell it?" Gast circled it fast, curious and wary.
"That's a balloon," he said. "Filled with gas lighter than air, so it floats. Not a real Pokémon."
"Balloon…" She drifted over and touched its slick skin with her gaseous body—springy and strange.
Jason was about to shepherd her away when Cynthia moved. She strode to the vendor; heads turned. That face and poise—impossible not to notice. She pointed elegantly at the Pikachu balloon. The vendor blinked, then hurried to untie it. Cynthia handed over a bill and didn't wait for change, walking back with the balloon.
She held out the string to Gast.
Gast froze, glanced at Cynthia, then the balloon, bewildered—until Jason prompted, "It's for you."
It clicked. Joy lit her entire body; her lavender aura bloomed bright. With no hands, she carefully opened her mouth and bit the end of the string.
"Keh-keh-keh-keh!"
Her signature laugh chimed. She spun in circles in the air, balloon bigger than she was bobbing along. "I caught a Pikachu!" she mumbled around the string.
Cynthia arched a brow at Jason. He translated at once: "She's happy."
"Good," Cynthia said softly.
Still clutching her newly "caught" Pikachu, Gast kept gawking. Soon, her attention drifted again. "Jason, what's that?"
She pointed at a street cart—steam puffing from a metal box. "Is there a really strong Ice-type under that big box? Is it making the cold? It feels so nice and cool!"
It was a brightly decorated ice cream pushcart; the vendor handed a cone to a little girl. The "steam" was just chilly air rolling out.
"That's ice cream," he said lazily.
The words rang clear to Cynthia. Her step hitched. The next second, she was already walking that way.
"Hey—wait up, sis!" Jason lunged. He scrambled up her leg, stickied to her fine black slacks, and climbed—push off the knee, leverage the belt, and at last, just as she reached the cart, he flopped onto her left shoulder, finding a comfy perch.
Cynthia didn't react; her whole attention had been stolen by the rainbow rows behind glass. She leaned slightly; golden hair slid over her shoulder; and on that cool, perfect face appeared the tiniest frown of torment.
"Chocolate looks rich—classic of classics…" she murmured to herself.
"But the mint looks so clean and fresh…"
"And strawberry—sweet and pink, perfect for today…"
Her gaze pinged between flavors; her brows knit tighter. "No… for a first try, I should return to origins—vanilla. Only vanilla shows the quality of the base…"
She shook her head, vetoing herself. "Ugh… which one…? So hard…"
The vendor and Gast stared, one shocked that such a regal beauty could struggle over ice cream, the other unable to fathom why these pretty "ice blocks" needed choosing at all.
Only Jason looked resigned. He knew—Cynthia had choice paralysis. Left alone, she could pick flavors for an hour.
"Sis!" He cleared his throat. "Don't choose—go with chocolate–mint–strawberry–cookies–and–cream!"
He rattled off the combo, cramming every flavor she'd agonized over into one order.
The fog broke. Her gray eyes lit. "Right!" she gasped, delighted. "Why pick just one? I can combine them!"
She turned those shining eyes on the vendor; the Ditto on her shoulder added a "let's do it" look. The vendor gaped—at the talking Ditto—and then, at Cynthia's nod, hurried to work. He stacked a jumbo waffle cone with a tower of chocolate, mint, strawberry, cookies, and cream—layer upon glorious layer.
When Cynthia took the giant cone with both hands, the icy queen aura melted. Gray eyes turned to crescents; her smile made her look like a girl with a new favorite candy. She even rocked on her toes, then stretched her tongue to gently taste the topmost scoop of vanilla.
Cold sweetness bloomed; she closed her eyes in bliss.
Then she held the cone up to Jason. "Want a lick?"