Rinkmon noticed almost instantly, but at their speed, that æalmostÆ meant he was far too late.
His reaction to the sight of a skinless, red framework version of himself didnÆt help muchùhe froze at the sight, his eyes growing wide.
In truth, that fact was a blessing for Guilmon. Despite his form, he was not truly Rinkmonùhe was a pile of links of code trying and failing to become Rinkmon. He could barely draw on a pale shadow of RinkmonÆs power and only because he already possessed the date of the Digimental of Friendship.
Even with that, he could just barely draw on some of RinkmonÆs speed. He couldnÆt use any of RinkmonÆs attacks in this form, just like he couldnÆt use the powers of any other Digimon whose form he tried to take.
Even with all his speed enhancing cards in effect, he could only barely match RinkmonÆs speedùand he had no way of knowing how long this transformation would last before he was forced to move on to the next one.
So, to him, RinkmonÆs hesitation was a godsend. It only lasted a moment, but it was enough for Guilmon to catch up, despite his opponentÆs head start.
As soon as he caught up, he did something he would never get tired of doing.
He punched Rinkmon across the face.
And the moment he did, their battle resumed.
In that first second, hundreds of blows were exchanged. Each stepped back many times, trying to get either breathing room or a perspective on the battle, but it never lasted more than a microscopic fraction of a second before they were back at each otherÆs throats.
At times, it almost seemed like they were dancingùa deadly dance to be sure, full of whirling blades and swinging fistsùbut a dance nonetheless. They skated around their battlefield, like Olympic Medalists trying to outdo each other. Their battle was not restricted just to the area in front of TakatoÆs ruined home, for when Rinkmon tried to shift the battle to endanger Takato, Guilmon would always subtly turn it way, taking the battle up and down the street.
His tactic showed his faith, revealing it through his action. He was not hesitating, or withdrawing, or fearing for his life in the slightest. He backed off only when moving forward would put him in a bad position, and as soon as a new path opened, it was taken.
It was not the reckless assault of someone who thought he would die, but the action of a man who truly believed that as long as he moved forward, victory would always be possible.
At some point, along the way, heÆd lost that. He didnÆt know whereùmaybe that one time it had seemed like it wasnÆt enough, when heÆd lost to Mercurymon despite everything. And yet, here he was. Thanks to the actions of his friend, here he was.
HeÆd forgotten the aspect of himself that before heÆd always clung too, and he was ashamed at that.
But he had it back now and he wouldnÆt lose it again.
He truly felt that he would winùthat he could winùand he knew exactly how.
He believed in his Tamer.
He believed in Matsuda Takato.
His Tamer had promised him a miracle and he believed that Takato would deliver. He believed that as long as he bought Takato the time he needed, he would open up a path to victory and see him through.
But if you rush a miracle worker, you just get lousy miracles.
So he would put his life on the line to buy him the time he needed.
Even if it may have seemed foolhardy to attack a furiously as he did, it kept Rinkmon away from his Tamer for another secondùand that was worth it.
In the next second, Rinkmon tried a different path of approachùand then another and another. He circled around the block, took shortcuts through alleys, made his own short cuts through housesùbut each time, Guilmon appeared in his way.
In the next second, his strategy changed slightly. Rinkmon tried to lure him away from Takato each time he attacked and fell away, hoping to open a path to the Tamer, but it never worked. No matter what he tried, Guilmon stuck by his Tamer, always in motion, moving so fast he knew Takato couldnÆt possibly see himùbut even so, he hovered over his friend like an invisible guardian angel.
Rinkmon then tried to hammer through his defenses, knowing his unprotected hide was his weakness. The attacks came a hundred timesùa thousand timesùdirected towards his eyes, his head, his groin, his legs, and ever place Rinkmon knew would hurt. Guilmon couldnÆt stop him in a straight clash of powers, so each time, an arm or a blade slipped into the way of the attack, sliding it gently out of the way.
For Rinkmon, this was a battle of prideùa battle of who was the better Rinkmon. He had thought he would easily win, as he had far more experience at being Rinkmon. But Guilmon had more experience in general, and knew how to fight at speeds like this, even if he was in a different body.
But for Guilmon, it was just a fight for his TamerÆs life. He fought as a Knight would to protect his Lord.
And he had decided he would do anything to protect his friend.
So when he felt his body start to shift again, he fought it with all his might. He prolonged his existence as æRinkmonÆ for as long as he could, until it began to become nearly painful to hold on.
Maybe it showed on his face, or in his movements, or in something else, but Rinkmon must have picked up on it somehow. In those next few moments, his assault increased dramatically, tryingùand succeedingùin wearing down the transformation.
Whether it was the pain or relativity, those seconds felt like an eternity to Guilmon.
He slide aside a blade that would have gouged out his right eye, pushed away an attack that would have cut his thighs, pushed down a thrust that would have pushed a blade straight into his groin and tried to kick out with the blade on his left foot and turn the flow of the battle in his favorùbut it wasnÆt meant to be.
Was he was slowing down?
Whether it was due to the transformation or exhaustionàhe was.
He had to something. Now. He needed to buy a little more time.
But if he stayed on the defensive, Rinkmon would just continue to wear him down.
But would it help if he went on the offensive? Would he be able to accomplish anything?
àHe had to try.
His transformation was about to fade and before it did, he had to try.
Rinkmon was a storm of blades, soàGuilmon became one, too. Putting the last second of his transformation into it, he clashed with all his might, hoping for another miracle.
Perhaps it came, when, during the clashing of a thousand blades and as many fists, he managed to slip a single punch past RinkmonÆs defense. Noticing at the last, Rinkmon tried to dodge, but Guilmon still hit him in the shoulder.
Maybe that was the miracle.
But if it wasnÆt, what happened next definitely was.
Suddenly, RinkmonÆs armor began to glitch. It flickered in and out of stability, as if near deletion.
With a gasp, Rinkmon retreated all the way down the street in a second, even as Guilmon shrank into his normal form.
It was only then that sound caught up with the pair.
ôùArmor Pause! Activate!ö Takato cried.
