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Life notes: This short story was originally meant for Trans Day of Visibility.
Injured my shoulder right before I finished the lineart for the accompanying sketch. I’ll be back after a month or two with the proper finished artwork, which was meant to include Ranvir off to one side.
Word count: 1,684
Summary: Ranvir Chandrani has a habit of referring to his butch niece with masculine terminology pretty often, as do many others. Does he need to stop, or not? Layla and he fall into a discussion about gender as her friend Alia stresses over her place at Layla’s side.
Story notes: Ranvir is referred to as “chachu” instead of “mama” by Layla due to Layla’s mom’s currently untold spoilery backstory.
Very late note that none of the relationships here are meant to have any incestuous implication (just in case); simply non-traditional found family thinking.
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Blue Horizon: Layla, the Handsome Man…?
by Naila Moonsi
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Layla Chandrani wasn’t Ranvir Chandrani’s daughter. Her room took up a portion of his household; it was worn down much further than his bygone youth through the years of her running in and out of it. His little niece was nearing 20 now. Just about near the beginnings of adulthood and its roaring, dissonant cacophony.
Midnight, indigo, sapphire. Aquamarine, teal. Pale linings on inky blue floors; the Chandrani residence, despite its warm red-pink brick outer exteriors—the home the children seemed to still love—it was a breakable quartz of blues inside. It’d simply become this way a long time ago for the sake of a flex—
The flex of oceanic power.
“This one is perfectly tailored, Baba!” Layla was bustling in front of that mirror, re-tying her midnight tie. Her suit wasn’t as typical as it got with constant white colors she proudly noted to never allow any stains to take to as an ocean mage, instead for once a sturdy beige with a black shirt and black pants.
“You appear handsome, baba,” Ranvir concurred.
“I’ve started looking more slick of late!”
“It’s how you should be.”
“It’s how I want to be.” Layla spun. Her rainbowing moon-silver hair was full of waves, and her skin had a healthy dark tan. The coral red of her eye glittered confidently, and the black eyepatch with its esoteric symbols shone harder with an eerier silver tone.
She wasn’t quite his daughter. He was always proud. A triumphal young woman who held up her colors.
The room around them had wound up full of colors, with some dozens of her long-sleeved shirts strewn across a nearby loveseat and her fluffed up bed.
Ranvir was always surprised to find the girl’s room appeared lived in prior to her running off back to her school, the one far away from home. Everything about her trying to seek out and give ‘coolness’—as well as her tendencies toward mathematics as a serious discipline—had long been a picture of utilitarianism in his mind.
Then again, many would say the same of him in his youth, with math on his mind or not. He’d been prone toward theoretical textbooks in particular.
“You’re a handsome man!” Ranvir decided to boast. “You’ll be a splitting image of us, me and your—”
“I’m still not a man? Ranvir-chachu. I know I’ve been calling you ‘Baba’ on occasion again like I did for a while when I was tiny, but your sister is my actual mom, so it sounds weird when you say these things around my friends—”
“Alia understands our family dynamics.” Ranvir supplied. He wouldn’t glance back at the young woman standing with her arms crossed, back relaxed against the wall of Layla’s room.
Alia Atif-Akinyemi was a young black lady, intelligent and standoffish in the modern day. She’d wound up warmer around his niece in ways he hadn’t quite expected—he’d known her since she was young, and their families had begun to have...troublesome relations.
The Atif-Akinyemi and the Chandrani had gotten along swimmingly for a time. Once a steady nightfall, a dawn full of problems had taken up all of the horizon by his generation, suffocating, and now…
The girl—ah, this young woman was in his house. It was a fantastic life, seeing Layla grin bright; he was simply unsure what to do, really. The sun was high in the sky and low on them through the blinds of the wide window, and they were all more relaxed for it.
“You’re not her father, exactly, uncle,” Alia observed. “You’re certainly not her blood-related father.”
“It’s not strange for me to call her baba.” He was already put off.
“If she’s not a man, it should be respected, too, I believe.” Alia said.
“Alright,” said Ranvir. “I do agree. You are a girl, Layla?”
This was when Layla Chandrani peered at him in such a way. An important way.
Ranvir’s old bones instantly went toward straightening, his back trying enough even as he gripped his cane and kept it sturdy; he was now in a situation that merited listening and interacting in a way that might change their lives. He was unsure why he had an understanding of this—his empath’s Red had bled away from his core a long time ago. It was just that humans, they simply comprehended these sort of things.
A flash of knowing between humanoid beings—it was an ultra-ancient, primal understanding, far beyond modern Spectral psychic ability in the 9990’s ATF upon the ocean planet Imion.
Layla was glancing at Alia soon, then back at Ranvir. The most awkward thing in the world might be all their similarities—cool temperaments, studious focus, and at least once—back when he’d been young—elegant fashion sense. They even had around the same range of dark brown skin. His little Layla had taken after him further—a butch, it might be. An interest in masculinity! A certain look.
Alia was as serious in her captain-like wears, taking much after her real mother. She had the same sort of calm red eyes; the same sort of picturesque nose and set lips; the same sort of dark hair, with a lot of curls that flew around her everywhere. A splitting image, or just about!
Layla’s coral red eye glowed high. She said, “I’ve been thinking—that is, have you heard of it? Being ‘nonbinary.’ I know they tried suppressing a lot of these terminologies by your generation, but I am not interested in being—um—simply female, chachu! I am ‘genderfluid.’ We don’t use gendered pronouns when speaking Pathrala, but in Universal, I’d use ‘they’ and ‘she’!”
In their house and among Layla’s friend group, they didn’t always utilize ‘Universal.’ Universal was spun-off from an ancient dialect—Musur III—and nowadays reigned as popular around the world. This was similar enough to how things had begun to go in the ultra-ancient Earth eras Imionian people had long obsessed over, with an understanding of the popularly studied if antiquated, no longer widely-spoken ‘English.’
Ranvir blinked. He felt the oldness of his bones…
Adjust.
His cane tapped forward subconsciously. His lungi fluttered, the teal of it a drifting waterfall around him.
Layla blinked back at him. This girl did not fear him. She was practically his daughter, and…
Ranvir wound up doing it, crying out.
He exclaimed, “So you are nonbinary, too…! How wonderful. I didn’t expect it, your generation finding joy in this sort of conversation again. I don’t particularly favor gender either. I used to talk about this with my man—ah, with Armando—all the time.”
“Uncle called Armando his ‘man,’ Layla,” said Alia, sounding bemused.
“He did.” Layla’s voice was colored with shock.
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Layla was noticeably unsure and shyer than he’d expected around him now. They came forward—and he went ahead, suddenly. This nonbinary became embarrassed—
Over a familial hug! As the two of them parted, Layla was noticeably happier.
“So you are, too…! I didn’t expect… Why didn’t I?” Layla questioned themself. “I’m glad to hear of it. Do you have differing pronouns in Universal?”
“I favor speaking in Pathrala and Bangla for a reason,” said Ranvir. “I’m happier not thinking about pronouns. Still, I’ve preferred ‘he’ and ‘they’ in Universal… I wouldn’t despise ‘she,’ but I’ve been used to not thinking on i—well, it wouldn’t be bad, either.”
“I see. That’s amazing.”
“Regarding Armando—you know your uncle’s actual pronouns?”
“I do know her!” Layla said, cheerily.
“He’s very Citaalan.”
Alia spoke after. “Well, we’re all handsome folk, with or without all these pronouns. You’re looking better than stellar, Layla.”
“She’s trying to learn how to woo women, you know.” Layla went and fucking said.
Ranvir’s smile became strained. Alia quieted. This wasn’t uncommon an occurrence of late.
Ranvir went and decided to fucking say—
“Yes, she’s basically your right-hand and quite the gallant bastard, isn’t she, Layla? The right sort of sister to have at your side as times get more trying.”
“She ain’t my sister, Baba!” Layla otherwise seemed to agree.
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“I am living through trying times, I agree,” said Alia. “I’ll always be the right one at her side as an associate or as a friend—”
I’m unsure what to do anymore. Ranvir tried to not let his eye twitch. These children are so very free. Am I a good father?
The 9990’s ATF was flitting by in years. All these children had modern views starting to crop up and become vivid. He was hopeful. He’d always been, but…
What do I do, Armando? I wonder.
“I am a powerful witch, father,” Alia went and fucking said. “You already are aware. I know I rarely ever interacted with Layla prior to our teens. Even so, you in particular know my power. I will not fail anyone with it! You can be assured.”
So I can.
Ranvir kept motionless—he let Layla observe him, and his daughter did not tense, staring at him. He let his own body relax after ascertaining his expression around Alia Atif-Akinyemi hadn’t caused another schism between the two of them.
“You are powerful, Alia,” he said. “It is well-known. I am well-aware. Many are, and will rely on you over it. Don’t doubt.”
“I don’t.”
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“I didn’t expect this kind of…” Ranvir waved a hand. “Wonderful revelation between us? Yours and mine, Layla.”
“Our joy!” chirped Layla.
“Alright,” said Ranvir.
“Baba,” they said, “I know you understand our family who transitioned into women, let alone Ma and her energy, but for some reason I didn’t think you’d understand me, let alone relate…! How rad. You stay one of the coolest cats in our whole family.”
“I won’t forget,” Ranvir quickly noted. “You are not a man—”
“Nah,” Layla said, breezy. “I’m your guy! Practically like your sons, right?”
Ranvir was instantly flummoxed. Alia coughed.
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“I’m a handsome man!” Layla boasted.
“I...if you say so, Layla!” Ranvir tried to understand, then did…!
Alia began, “I’d say s—”
Ranvir said, “No you would not.”
Alia was miffed, like usual. “Oh, father, why?”
Layla…
She certainly seemed to not understand. This was alright. Fantastic, in truth.
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fin.
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