You know the best part about having a mom who’s also trans? Relating on such a deep level. She knew what it was like to feel like something was intrinsically wrong. She knew what it was like for the world to see you as someone you’re not. For you to see someone you’re not in the mirror. To hear someone else talking when you speak. To be in all the physical ways, just like any other “boy,” even acting as one, but still never relating, never fitting in. 

One time we were talking about what it was like to figure it out, and I told her about the long, long sleepless nights I would go through back in high school and how there was one secret I never told anyone. The little wish I kept hidden. I want to be a girl. I knew it, all that time, but I didn’t have the epiphany until I saw other trans women in college, just living out their daily lives. It just clicked. I could be a girl, hell, I was a girl. The whole time. 

And she just nodded along to every word before replying, “Like mother like daughter.” I smiled, and then asked her what her experience was like. She paused for a moment, perusing through her memories.

“Well mostly everything you went through, just in my own ways. Back in school I was pretty much the definition of an outcast. I think I spent more time in the library reading than interacting with other human beings, because it was just a constant reminder that I was a puzzle piece being made to fit into the wrong part.”

“You have puzzles in this world?”

“That’s a surprise?”

“No, it’s just interesting to see the things that just exist both here and on Earth, whether our cultures just happened to invent the same things naturally or if otherworlders brought them here. It’s like… no matter what world you're in, people are still people.”

“That’s… a really nice thought.”

“And a scary one too. It means that there are still just as many bad people here as there are back on Earth, and there were a lot of them back on Earth.”

“I hope not as many as you think. Both here and there.”

“I hope so too. Anyway, you were an outcast who read a lot?”

“Right, yes. Honestly at first I read as many stories as I could, always relishing putting myself in the perspective of someone else. Regardless of gender really, but in retrospect I really latched onto female protagonists. Then there was one story that had a boy turn into a girl and she was just… ok with it. Happy even. And I thought, ‘Goddess, I wish that were me.’ After that I started looking into magic, thinking that if I could find a spell to turn me into a girl I could just leave behind my life as a boy. I didn’t realize I was trans until I met your father and eventually I told him that I wanted to turn myself into a girl and he just said, ‘Can’t you just be a girl now?’ It absolutely fried my brain. ‘Hell no!’ I replied, and then thought for a second and said, ‘Shit, you have a point.’ Never once did it occur to me before then that I could just be a girl, even if my body didn’t match up.”

“Oh my gosh I felt the same way! It was like this huge sudden epiphany that I could just be a girl instead of wishing to be re- born… as… one. Oh.”

“Oh, yeah, that actually happened. I’m kinda jealous. Weird for a mother to be jealous of her daughter, but here we are I guess.”

“Hey, it’s fair, I got every egg’s wish.”

“Egg?”

“Oh haha, Earth terminology for trans people who don’t know or don’t accept they’re trans yet. When they realize they ‘crack.’”

“I love that!”

“So do I!”

Mom and I had so many of these little conversations in between our magic sessions. She wouldn’t go into it much, but I was hoping eventually she’d open up a bit more about her adventures to find out how to make her body magically transition. Whenever I’d ask she’d just say it was a long road, and there was almost too much to go into, too hard to explain. But one thing she made clear was just how thankful she was for dad and their other companions. 

“Without them, I never would’ve been able to live a normal life with your father and have you.”

For a moment I thought that my birth was just an inevitability here, but then I thought of the other Aria, what other timelines might have existed without me in them, and I suddenly was just as thankful as her. 

Speaking of our magic lessons though, those had been going really well! We had started them about a week after my confession, then had been going steadily for 6 months, and now I was 4 years old. My magic capacity could handle any lesson that she threw my way, and she still pushed me to my limits. I got stronger and stronger alongside every new lesson. I was now quite adept at elemental magic, and I also learned some other handy tricks from mom’s repertoire of unique spells. Illusion magic that could make me look however I want to other people and little balls of elemental magic that could be thrown and detonated by the user I dubbed “Elemental Grenades,” were my personal favorites.

I wasn’t kidding about her pushing me to my limits though. Sometimes after practical training I’d head to bed and collapse, every muscle in my body sore the next morning, including my mind. Overusing magic made my mind feel as if it was a piece of mush for a while. You can still use it and think but everything is just foggy. It’s hard to focus. It’s like the sort of mental fatigue you’d get after spending the entire day at school or work but just… worse. 

In my own spare time (when I wasn’t too tired from my actual training), I continued with spellsword magic. Safe to say I was getting pretty good at it, despite feeling it out on my own. I could make all kinds of different swords now, and I was working my way towards creating polearms next. I really like the versatility of spears, so being able to make my own from magic was a very appealing idea. I also took the whole idea of magic constructs and decided to see if I could apply it in other areas. I couldn’t exactly make something complex like a gun, but with a bit of practice I could make small, but solid barriers as well as small shields. Being made from my own magic, I could move them and reshape them to my liking, as long as I had the mana capacity to do it, which had a lot of potential for active combat usage. A strong defense is just as important as a strong offense after all!

It surprised me that going beyond simple weapons didn’t seem to be a common application for spellsword magic. The book barely even went into the concept of creating barriers. But I could think of so many more applications. Platforms? Bridges? Even things beyond the normal scope of combat, like instruments. The qualities of the things you create with mana are controlled entirely with your mind, so it’d likely be perfectly feasible to create something like a guitar or piano, wouldn’t it? I wonder if it’s been done before? 

That idea would be shelved until I got more mana capacity though. A lot of ideas really. Sure the goddess increased the maturity of my mana store, but when my ideas kept outdoing the average complexity of simple weapons, that made things a bit more difficult. I’m worried about when I’ll reach the limit of how much I can improve my capacity with practice before being limited by age again, but considering that limit keeps increasing every single day I don’t think it will be hit anytime soon. Even if I am still afraid of that eventual reality. Knowing there’s a limit you’ll one day reach whether you like it or not, when you’re also trying to grow as much as possible so that the world as you know it doesn’t get destroyed, that’s a hell of a burden on my mind. An important burden to have though, because it also means I know I can keep growing, regardless of my size right now. Even if I hit that wall I still have a long stretch ahead of me. 

I can’t let myself forget that. Soon enough all this waiting to grow up and constant training will give way to the life I have ahead of me. An adventuring academy, new friends, new experiences, an entire world for me to explore. Right now I’m still in the cocoon, but soon enough I’ll really be able to sprout my wings and show this world what I’m made of when I’m not held back by a body I hate. I show that bastard God of Demons the meaning of “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”

…after I grow up.