Guilmon
You started to laugh. You couldn’t help it. You were being approached by one of the best Guilmon cosplayers ever. He wasn’t even walking upright, and his red body appeared anatomically correct. “Sorry, sorry,” you said quickly as the Guilmon frowned. “Am I in the way of your photo shoot or something? Could you direct me to a way out?”
“Uh…” The Guilmon droned, titling his head in confusion. “I’m sorry, miss, but—”
“Oh, hold on now,” you corrected, getting serious again, “I’m a guy. Let’s get that straight.”
Guilmon’s ear perked up like a real animal. He sounded much younger, somewhere in his early teens or adolescence. “Really? I was under the impression Renamon were a female-only race.”
You deadpanned. “That explains why my chest feels heavier.” So not only did the costume alter your species, but also your gender. Perfect, just perfect.
Despite the overwhelming evidence against the contrary, you still weren’t sold on the idea this was a Guilmon in front of you. You examined him more closely. His claws on his hands and feet gleamed in the sunlight. The slightest of movements made his visible muscles contract. Not even a skintight suit could produce that effect. And when Guilmon, patient Guilmon, snorted, actual smoke came out of his nostrils.
“There’s no way…” This wasn’t a cosplayer and, as you looked around, you noticed other Digimon meandering around minding their own business.
You were in the Digimon universe. Likely the Digital World itself.
No way, you kept thinking all a mantra of madness. There was no way you were in a fictional world. This wasn’t a novel, TV show, or any medium of fiction. You kept thinking to yourself your friends would come out anytime and tell you you’ve been punked.
Written by grade-amasterpiece on 05 April 2016