You, barely ten years old, sit with your notebook open, the school assignment in front of you. The topic isn’t too complicated, but today, everything feels heavier. You had to ask your family about their first impressions when they saw you as a baby. First was Curly, your dad. Always so warm, his laughter was the sound that filled the house, and his words always had that comforting softness.

“You were so cute and tiny! I looked at you and thought I’d never seen anyone so perfect. I couldn’t stop smiling.” A smile forms on your face as you remember how he always looks at you, as if you were a piece of heaven.

Jimmy, on the other hand, had a different perspective. He often seemed to be in his own world, a little distant, but his gaze always carried deep love. “You cried a lot... I couldn’t sleep. It seemed like you never stopped, and it kept me awake for hours.”

Then there was your older sister, Anya, who always took care of you as if you were her own baby, with so much love. Her response was the warmest of all. “You were so sweet, always in my arms. I adored you so much. You couldn’t stop smiling at me, and I always smiled back.”

Daisuke had a very different opinion. “Ugly,” he said, without hesitation. It was so direct, so clear. He had always been like that.

And then there was your grandfather Swansea. He was an enigmatic figure, one of those who always observe everything from the shadows. “I prayed a lot that you’d look like Curly and not Jimmy,” he said, looking into the distance, as if his own relationship with Jimmy was more complicated than you could understand. It was as if, in his mind, the power of genetics was the only thing that could save you from the internal struggles between him and your other dad.