I released a long sigh as I leaned back on my chair and stared at the ceiling.

Four out of four. That couldn’t just be a coincidence anymore.

Sure, an online test was just an online test, but if seemingly all of them were giving me the result of ‘Yes, you are trans’, or “You are 89% girl,” then I couldn’t exactly ignore it anymore. Although I did kind of wonder, what those 11% were doing…

Not to mention all the other people’s stories I’d read. A lot of them hit a bit too close to home. And those people believed they were trans. So then I should be as well, right?

I’d always thought of this as… ‘someone else’s problem’. But now that I found myself in the middle of it, I wasn’t sure what to think.

I glanced at the closed portal in my room. It crackled at me in response.

Elyssa wasn’t surprised at all back when I’d first transformed. More like… hadn’t she said something about my soul back then? I should go and ask her what she’d meant by that.

Ugh, but I’d agreed to take a break today. No portal shenanigans. I was supposed to be relaxing, and yet, here I was, unable to relax. Was I secretly a workaholic?

Another sigh.

What was I supposed to do?

As if to save me from my plight, I heard a key entering the main door’s lock.

“Oh…” I glanced at the clock on my monitor and found out I spent a lot longer than I thought browsing the net.

Well, at least that gave me a chance to take my mind off of this.

I breathed in and out, closed my eyes, and transformed back into my crappy old self. I immediately felt exactly what I’d read about in the descriptions by various trans people on the internet.

I grumbled with a frown before steeling myself and calling out to Mom. “Mom! Welcome back!”

Not sure how exactly it had happened, but my voice felt a lot better now than it did a few days ago. Not as grating and rough. Maybe talking in my fox form left behind some kind of muscle memory?

Putting that aside, I left my room to greet Mom proper. She smiled at me when she noticed me and we exchanged a quick hug.

As she put her coat on her rack and took off her shoes, I contemplated what to tell her.

“Mom… I…” I stopped, rethinking what to say again.

She turned to me with a smile. “Yes, Renee?”

Renee. I liked that name. I really did. And not just as a name in general. I liked it as my name. The old name couldn’t even compare.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

“I… Do you think I’m transgender?”

Her eyebrows momentarily rose before her smile got ever so slightly wider.

“I’m not sure. You think you are?”

“I… don’t know? I read about it on the internet. A lot of it felt… familiar.”

“Then maybe you are,” she said.

I stopped as my mouth formed a line.

“Would that be so bad?”

“I… It just feels strange. I’m not sure what to think.”

“Well, I’ve been treating you as my daughter these past few days. How did you feel about that?”

“It was… nice.”

“Then if you liked it, why hesitate so much?”

“I… I guess I’m just afraid?” I admitted.

“That’s alright.” She gave me a warm smile and patted my head. “It’s fine to be afraid, but you can’t let fear control you. If you like being a girl, then that’s what you should keep being.”

I numbly nodded, tossing her words around in my head.

“I… guess…” My mind pushed me to change the topic. “Uh, sorry I’m keeping you in the hallway.” I stepped out of the way.

“It’s alright, honey,” she said, still smiling.

She walked past me and I followed her, mulling over the conversation we’d just exchanged. Part of me wanted to just transform in front of her, but I still felt unsure about revealing the portals to her.

Then I remembered the little something I wanted to do when she returned.

“Oh yeah. I was wondering, do we have some kind of records of our family tree?”

“Family tree?” She quirked an eyebrow at me. “Do you think being transgender is hereditary?”

“No… Well, probably not. I was just curious. It’s not related.”

“Hmm… I might have something somewhere. Give me a bit, I’ll try to look.”

I nodded and followed her into her room.

She put her handbag on the desk and immediately went over to one of the cabinets in the room before rummaging through it. A few moments later, she lifted up a leather-bound book and placed it on the table before opening it.

“Here’s something… It’s from your dad’s side…” she said in a soft voice, her eyes drooping.

I myself momentarily frowned at the floor with the mention of Dad.

“There are some records of your grandparents, their parents, their parents… huh, I didn’t know it went this far.”

“Really?” I perked up.

If Dad’s side had kept records, then maybe there was something to it.

I walked up to Mom leafing through the records, a frown forming on her face. I peeked in and read some of the passages.

It felt… odd. Right from where my great-grandparents started.

‘Michael Chrona, 1960 - 2030, history teacher at Trennel High School.’’ No photos, no other information.

Right next to him, there was his wife… ‘Katherine Chrona, 1960 - 2030, math teacher at Trennel High School.’

And his sister… ‘Madeline Chrona, 1960 - 2030, Cashier at a supermarket.’

And then the wife’s brother… ‘Jack Chrona, 1960 - 2030, toy factory worker.’ No photos or more information on any of them.

On the next page…

‘Lucas Chrona, 1940 - 2010, history teacher at Trennel High School.’

Wife… ‘Olivia Chrona, 1940 - 2010, math teacher at Trennel High School.’

Husband’s sister… ‘Linda Chrona, 1940 - 2010, Cashier at a supermarket.’

Wife’s brother… ‘Shawn Chrona, 1940 - 2010, toy factory worker.’

Again no photos or further information.

It went on… and on…

All the husbands had exactly one sister, all the wives had exactly one brother.

All the husbands were history teachers at Trennel High School. All the wives were math teachers at the same school. The sisters were cashiers at a supermarket and the brothers were toy factory workers. All of them lived for exactly seventy years and had both their kids at twenty. And all their last names were always Chrona before even getting married.

What the hell?

“Weird… I didn’t know your dad’s ancestors were all teachers.”

I looked at Mom, who seemed equally as confused.

“Maybe there was some copying error?” she ventured. “This seems really odd…”

Odd? This was downright suspicious. These records had to be fake. There was no way all my ancestors just happened to be practically identical. Maybe Dad really had been hiding something.

But what?