All around me were unfamiliar faces in a not-so-worn-out place. To be more precise, I was at Comic-Con San Diego.
Now, to be fair, I was apprehensive of attending. I had heard bad things about this event, and being the shut-in I was, I preferred to be alone in my room, making no noise and pretending I didn't exist. But the friends I had made online had pressured me into going at last.
So I had saved up most of my life savings for a plane ticket across the country, the hotel we'd be staying at, and the costume I'd be attending in. It had cost me a few thousand dollars, which was a lot for me--I was only 20 years old, and my money was hard-earned. But hopefully this would be an event I'd remember more than the money I'd earned.
The rest of my friends I had met were also staying there. To be honest, it was an experience I didn't like. I had associated them mostly as disembodied avatars and a quirky personality through typed words. To meet them face-to-face, see how they looked, hear their voices, find out their real names--even which gender they were, in some cases--was a disheartening slap from reality. I almost preferred it when I didn't know them so personally.
For the past two days, I had wandered around the convention. Not aware of social expectations, I was taken aback. Everyone in the building was like me. Nerdy, awkward, excitable. People would shout out old memes, bad jokes, and JoJo's references out of nowhere. What surprised me was the fact that no one ate much at all, preferring instead to attend panels of cartoon creators. One was an event where sweaty nerds talked about cute animated girls, and the other was a necessary human function everyone needed to survive.
I hadn't eaten a proper meal in two days.
I barely even noticed. The event was so immersive that other unnecessary functions shut down. I attended panels, watched new trailers, and got my mind blown at least five times a day. But I mostly spent money. The lines moved at a millimeter per hour, but by the end of each day, I had amassed so much memorabilia to add to my collection that I didn't care about the lines.
On the final day, I had gotten lost in the crowd as usual. My phone was on 45%, I could barely see over the crowd's heads, and my supply of money was running out. When this happened, I usually drifted along until I ended up at a random stand. So I did.
Ten minutes later, I ended up at a stand I could have sworn wasn't there before. It was in a corner on the second floor, and nobody else was near it--a fifteen-foot radius was around the foreboding stand.
I looked around. Everyone I saw on the edges of the circle were moving in slow motion, like they were walking in a sea of honey.
“Good sir.” He bore a remarkable resemblance to the merchant from Resident Evil 4, which I honestly expected from a comic-con event. “Care to sample my wares?”
I eyed him strangely. I smoothed out the wrinkled outfit of my Ichigo Kurosaki uniform from Bleach and tramped my way over with trepidation. “What do you have to sell?”
“Looking to protect yourself, or deal some damage?” he mystically asked.
I slyly nodded at the Skyrim reference and looked over the table. There were prop weapons and folded shirts, mugs like black skulls and plastic dragon bones, and collectible figurines. But only one item caught my eye.
It was a long glass box, next to a Beta Capsule from Ultraman, containing a long, familiar weapon. I pointed at it. “Is that-?”
“That?” He laughed. “That's it, all right. It would complete your costume, I think.”
It was Renji's Zanpakuto, the legendary weapon from the show. Being a massive Bleach fan, I knew I had to have it.
“This...will make a fine addition to my collection,” I whispered, remembering the general who spoke those words.
“I can guarantee that at least. It has all the powers of the sword from the anime. The real deal. For a price, it can be all yours.”
I admit, I reached for it, pulling out my wallet at the same time. But as I opened it and saw the small amount of cash inside, I dismayed. “H-how much is this again?”
“For you?” he reiterated with a smirk. “One hundred dollars. A guaranteed bargain.”
I thumbed through my wallet. Only three fifties were inside. I had already spent most of my reserved money, and I knew I would be behind my rent for the next two months. Pushing aside my greedy thoughts, I shook my head. “Come on, the Zanpakuto? That's nonsense.”
“No,” he insisted. “This one is real. Trust me.”
“How?”
“Well, you see-” he started, then faltered. “You know, um...One thing I should...I, uh...y-...you know, most people don't actually reach this point. Most people would just accept the artifacts I sell.”
“Most people?” I asked dubiously. “Do other people buy stuff from you?”
“...yes…” he slowly said. “And then they write fanfiction about their experiences with them.”
“Is the fanfiction good?” I asked eagerly.
The man looked uncomfortable and didn't respond.
I eyed the blade again. It looked so good. But I looked down at my wallet once more, and sighed with regret.
“Look, I'd love to, but I don't have much money left. I gotta go.” I turned around and walked off.
“You need to buy this sword now!” he yelled after me.
I wheeled around in fright. His voice had changed drastically.
“I don't even like anime all that much!” he roared in admittance. “I only sell this stuff to get rid of the people who like bad anime in the first place! I'm doing the world a favor!”
“Bleach is a good anime!” I defended hotly.
“If I were to lay my eyes on an episode of that group of emo dunderheads, I would replace my vision with another kind of bleach to purge it from my eyes!”
“Hey, don't talk bad about Bleach! It's a really good show!”
The man angrily slammed his hands on his counter and motioned getting up.
I bolted for the safe space of real time. Just before I escaped the bubble of alternate reality the man had emanated from his display, I turned back to look at him.
He was just sitting there behind the stand. He hadn't moved an inch.
“Aren't you going to chase me down?” I taunted.
“I can't physically move from this chair!” he responded in frustration. “I just stay here for the entire story!”
“Story? What story?”
“Never you mind! Buy the stinking sword so you can leave in peace!”
“No, dude! I said I'm good!”
“I'm going to make you!”
“What are you going to do, yell at me?!”
“I'm going to say please! Really loudly!”
“So say it!”
“...PLEASE!”
“No!”
“That didn't work?!” He kicked his stand angrily. “I was sure that would work! Dang it!”
I stepped further away from the eccentric old man and slowly, the real world came into focus. People moved at a normal pace, and my vision became not so blurred.
I looked back where the man once was. The stand was gone.
I felt a twinge of regret at not having that awesome sword. But I also felt happy I was finally away from him.