#anubimon

Some people have pointed out the parallels between Aoi and Shuuji, particularly in how their character arcs explore gendered themes. Both characters initially put on a facade that aligns with societal expectations of their gender roles, and each is paired with a Digimon/Kemonogami partner that jarringly contrasts with their outward persona — which makes sense, since the partnermons reflect the true self they both try to suppress. This post, in particular, also elaborates a bit further on the parallels by discussing about how their character arcs move in opposite directions. To reiterate: Aoi begins as the nurturing and permissive mother figure of the group, almost stereotypically feminine, but as the story progresses, she steps into a leadership role and embraces a more assertive personality, which isn’t necessarily associated with traditional femininity. Conversely, Shuuji starts off trying to fit into the rigid mold of an authoritative leader, believing this is what’s expected of him as the oldest boy in the group. However, he eventually must embrace his gentle and caring side to enable himself to reach his full potential, which challenges the initial idea presented that masculinity must always equate to emotional stoicism. Basically, by the story’s end (at least in the Truthful route), both characters take on roles more commonly associated with the opposite gender.

You might think the gendered themes of their character arcs end just there, but if you look into the evolutions of Labramon and Lopmon, you’ll uncover even more layers of gendered subtext — undertones that, while likely unintended, are intriguing to explore. It’s something that seems to have gone largely unnoticed, so that’s exactly what I’ll write about now. Hopefully this can offer another interesting perspective to their character arcs.

Let’s start with Labramon, as the subtexts in her evolutions feel less subtle to me. From the game mechanics alone, initially, Labramon functions primarily as a support unit, equipped with a healing skill that aligns with stereotypical feminine roles of care and nurturing. However, as she evolves, I’d say this role shifts rather significantly. In her evolution forms (Dobermon, Cerberumon, Anubimon, and even Plutomon), Labramon transitions into a powerful offensive unit, taking on a more aggressive and assertive role that contrasts with her earlier, more traditionally feminine characterization.

What’s also particularly striking is the design and appearance of these evolutions. Dobermon, Cerberumon, and Plutomon all adopt distinctly masculine aesthetics, characterized by strong, fierce, and intimidating designs that align with traditional male archetypes. They also shed the cutesy appearance that Labramon initially has, replacing it with a color palette dominated by black and deep shadowy tones on top of very sharp silhouettes, which starkly contrast with Labramon’s original softer look. It almost feels as though her evolutions discard femininity to embrace more conventionally masculine traits like strength, aggression, and dominance. The game even alludes to this by showing how taken aback Aoi is when she first sees Cerberumon’s intimidating appearance.

Not only that, both Labramon’s two ultimate forms, Anubimon and Plutomon, are based on male deities. Anubis, the god of afterlife in ancient Egyptian religion, is strictly male in his depiction as a man with a jackal head. Even the etymology of his name reinforces this — the name “Anubis” comes from the ancient Egyptian word “Inpw”, which is masculine in grammatical gender. In ancient Egyptian language, words had gender, and the suffix “-w” typically indicated a masculine form (hypothetically speaking, the female form of “Inpw” would have been “Inpwt”). Additionally, Anubis has always been depicted with male attributes and roles in Egyptian mythology, such as being a protector of tombs, which was customarily a male-associated role in ancient Egypt.

Pluto is also consistently depicted as male in the original Greek mythology. The name “Pluto” (Plūtō) itself is the Latinized version of the Greek “Plouton”, which is a euphemism for the underworld god Hades, who is also strictly male. What’s even more interesting to note is that Pluto is the Roman counterpart of Dis Pater (Rex Infernus), whose name is commonly interpreted as “Rich Father” and may be a direct translation of Plouton. Note how the meaning of the name emphasizes the male aspect of the deity, as the title “father” is already inherently masculine.

Despite all of that, though, one thing I want to also note here is that Labramon and her evolutions consistently maintain a feminine speech pattern that’s largely shared by Aoi. An explanation for context: in Japanese, you generally can tell the gender identity of the speaker from their speech pattern (i.e., the way a male individual speaks and a female individual speaks are pretty distinct). I find this especially interesting, because it shows that you’re meant to take Labramon and her evolutions as female despite the traditionally “male” depictions.

(Sure, you might argue that this is just another instance of Digimon taking liberties with gender depiction, as they did with Garudamon in Adventure. However, I still find it intriguing to note that among the female cast, Aoi is the only character whose partner’s evolutions are consistently gendered as “male” within the Digimon franchise.)

Let’s move on to Lopmon and his evolutions. While Lopmon doesn’t undergo the same dramatic shifts in appearance the way Labramon does, he does give off a somewhat feminine vibe with how cute and very “pink” (for the lack of a better word) he looks. This has led to some mistaking Lopmon as female, even though his speech pattern closely resembles Shuuji’s distinctly male speech pattern (this is a similar case to Aoi and Labramon anyway, where they share similar speech patterns with each other). Aside from that, there is also still a gendered theming present in his evolutions. In particular, two of his evolutions, Turuiemon and Andiramon, feature genderqueer elements in their origins.

As I mentioned in my previous writeup, Turuiemon is based on Tu’er Ye (Tù’eryé/兔兒爺), the rabbit deity entrusted with saving the people from a plague. According to the legend, Tu’er Ye needed to borrow clothes to wear in order to gain the trust of the people. What I didn’t mention, however, is that Tu’er Ye also had a female counterpart called Tu’er Nainai (Tù’ernǎinai/兔兒奶奶). While these two figures might seem distinct, they could actually be one and the same deity. In some versions of the legend, Tu’er Ye changed appearance depending on the clothing donated to him by the people he helped, implying that Tu’er Nainai could simply be a cross-dressing Tu’er Ye. In short, Tu’er Ye can be interpreted as genderqueer due to the fluidity of his gender presentation in these legends.

The genderqueer theme becomes even more prominent in Antila, the figure upon which Andiramon is based. Antila (Āndǐluò/安底羅) is one of the Twelve Heavenly Generals serving Bhaisajyaguru (the Medicine Buddha). Although Antila is strictly depicted as male and isn’t necessarily genderqueer in the original legend, he takes on a genderqueer interpretation through his depiction in Japanese religious syncretism of Buddhism and Shinto (shinbutsu/kamihotoke/神仏): Through a concept known as honji-suijaku (本地垂迹), where Buddhas and bodhisattvas serve as the true forms (honji/本地) that have worldly manifestations (suijaku/垂迹) as Shinto kami (神), it is said that Antila was the worldly manifestation of the bodhisattva Guanyin (i.e., Guanyin is the honji of Antila, and Antila is the suijaku of Guanyin). Guanyin as a figure is primarily depicted as female-presenting. However, I should note that the nuances of Guanyin’s gender are complex, so I’ll address them in the next paragraph.

For starters: Guanyin (Guānyīn/Kannon/觀音) is the bodhisattva of compassion. As a bodhisattva, she’s a Buddhist figure, but in East Asian and Southeast Asian folk religions, she’s also sometimes known as the Goddess of Mercy. While some Buddhist schools in East and Southeast Asia recognize Guanyin as a genderless or androgynous entity, she’s consistently depicted to be female-presenting, so as a result, East and Southeast Asians commonly refer to her as “Mother Guanyin” or “Goddess Guanyin”. However, this hasn’t always been the case throughout history, as there was a time long ago when Guanyin was depicted as a male. You see, Guanyin is essentially the same figure as Avalokitasvara (also written as Avalokiteśvara), originally depicted as male in India. He was initially depicted as male in China as well, where East Asian Buddhism first originates. However, seeing that the traits the bodhisattva had (e.g., compassionate, merciful, and nurturing) were seen as conventionally feminine by Chinese people, eventually the depiction of Guanyin as female took over. This change was so profound that by the time Buddhism spread further into East and Southeast Asia, the female depiction of Guanyin became the dominant one, and this solidifies her status as a “female” divinity instead of a “male” one. So, it’s safe to say that in the case of Guanyin as the true form of Antila, the intention is for her to be female, despite Antila being a male himself.

(Kind of a tangent: I don’t necessarily disagree with trans readings of Guanyin, whether in relation to her being Antila’s true form or the historical nuances of her gender depictions. I believe it’s a completely valid interpretation, to say the least. However, I must note that this perspective isn’t universally accepted — at least not among the Buddhists I know personally — so it’s important to approach this argument carefully. But anyway, I digress.)

I don’t have much to say about Cherubimon, as he is based on cherubim, who aren’t strictly defined as male or female, as far as I know. However, I personally find that Cherubimon’s appearance carries a distinctly feminine vibe, primarily through the character design and symbolic elements. I mean, Cherubimon features a softer, more rounded form, with large, expressive eyes that convey a sense of gentleness and add some cute factors. The pastel color palette, often dominated by shades of pink, further enhances this somewhat feminine quality. Additionally, his demeanor and role as a guardian figure align with traits typically associated with femininity, such as nurturing and protective instincts. I think it’s fair to say that the combination of these visual and thematic elements gives Cherubimon a feminine presence that contrasts with the more aggressive or imposing designs of most other ultimate level Digimon (including Labramon’s ultimate forms).

Interestingly, unlike Labramon’s evolutions, Lopmon’s evolutions don’t always retain Lopmon’s masculine speech pattern. Specifically, Andiramon and Cherubimon adopt more neutral speech patterns that aren’t distinctly masculine or feminine. I believe this is intended to represent both Andiramon and Cherubimon as more mature forms of Lopmon, with speech patterns that convey a sense of regality and dignity. Given the lore in Survive, where Digimon/Kemonogami are seen as the true selves of their human partners, it’s reasonable to still interpret both Andiramon and Cherubimon as male within the context of the game.

In addition to the individual subtexts, it’s also noteworthy to see how Labramon’s and Lopmon’s evolution lines as a whole reflect contrasting archetypes that align with traditional gender roles. As Labramon evolves into forms like Anubimon and Plutomon, she embodies a theme of judgment and authority, taking on the traditionally masculine role of one who wields power, dispenses justice, and determines the fates of others. On the other hand, Lopmon’s true evolution line (Turuiemon, Andiramon, and Cherubimon) centers around the theme of a guardian deity, which carries more feminine connotations such as care, compassion, and protection. I just think the whole contrast is worth pointing out, considering it aligns very well with the overall gendered undertones present in Aoi and Shuuji’s respective character arcs.

To end this writeup, I just want to reiterate once again: While these gendered subtexts might not be immediately apparent or universally acknowledged, I still think they provide additional depth to the narrative. They also offer a fascinating lens through which you can further explore both Aoi and Shuuji, beyond the much more obvious aspects of their arcs.