Fort Helena is a small town on the outskirts of Alberta, in mid-western Canada. As a diesel locomotive passes through, billowing white smoke, snow falls once again on the quiet streets. The town is home to an old train station that doubles as a local museum, a church, a post office, and a high school. Wherever I go, one name occasionally comes up: "Richard MacKenzie."

He's a handsome young man with blond hair and blue eyes. Over 20 years ago, he registered as an anonymous sperm donor at a sperm bank, and his genes are said to have spread as far as Europe and Asia. Some say he has over 100 biological children, at least several dozen of whom live in Fort Helena.

As a result, the young people of this town live under strange constraints. No one knows who his "siblings" are, born from his sperm. Some even take DNA tests to confirm their love, but most give up halfway through. At some point, romance between people from the same hometown came to be viewed with the same weight as incest in this town.

High school prom had become more of a practice than a ritual. Even in their dresses and tuxedos, the students didn't look at each other seriously. Even when they held hands, their smiles were somehow forced. Many of them had no choice but to find a partner "outside." They could move to a big city, leave the province, or even cross the border. This was a "rite of passage" for young people in Fort Helena.

* * *

It was in a dorm at the University of Alberta that Yuma Nogawa, a foreign student from Japan, first heard the name of the town. His roommate, Jim Glatzer, laughed and said one night over pizza.

"Hey, Yuu. Do you want to go to Comic-Con tomorrow? There's a girl from Fort Helena performing. She's really good at drawing. I hope she draws a picture of your favourite character."

Fort Helena. It sounded like a place name he'd heard somewhere before, but Yuma paid it no mind. The next day, at the venue, the "girl" he was introduced to was Abigail Radomski.

She had pale skin, freckled cheeks, and chestnut hair tied back in a ponytail. She was smiling in front of a booth displaying cat illustrations. The moment she said, "Nice to meet you," a calmness like a soft snowflake fell over Yuma's heart.

The two of them met every Saturday from then on. They would do assignments in the university library, or take walks along the lake. They then formed a club unit and occasionally set up booths together at anime conventions. The time they spent together, their worlds gradually overlapping, had a warmth that's hard to put into words.

Abigail often talked about her hometown. But whenever she spoke of Richard, her eyes would always take on a slightly distant look.

"When I was a kid, I had a crush on someone. But nothing ever happened between us. You've heard of DNA, right?"

When Yuma heard her words, he was taken aback for a moment.

"DNA!?"

After a moment, he remembered what she had meant. A strange story he had read in a news article: the "Richard's Children" of Fort Helena.

"So, everyone in town..."

"Yeah. Maybe they're cousins ​​or siblings. That's why romance is taboo. We all grow up together like brother and sister."

Abigail shrugged, but there was a faint hint of loneliness behind her smile. Yuma didn't ask any more questions. In fact, he didn't even feel like asking any more. All he could do was take her hand and say, "I'm from a different town."

* * *

After graduation, the two remained in Edmonton. Yuuma worked as an infrastructure engineer, connecting cables in the cold air of data centers, while Abigail worked as a web designer, imagining the world behind screens.

Even during their busy work days, they never missed their evening walks along snowy roads together. "This road reminds me of Fort Helena," Abigail said, exhaling frostily. Yuuma laughed.

"Then let's walk a little further. I want to learn a little more about your hometown."

And so, the two leaned against each other in the chilly night air. To them, "family" wasn't a blood connection, but a chosen warmth.

And so, when Yuuma was 28 and Abigail was 29, they married. The ceremony took place in a small church, with snowflakes clinging to the windows and a dozen friends celebrating. As they exchanged vows, a single tear rolled down Abigail's cheek.

"Back home, wedding bells never rang. Today, I finally heard them."

Yuma gently embraced her and whispered, "This is the first bell."

* * *

Two years later, their daughter, Haley, was born. When her tiny hand held Yuuma's finger for the first time, he suddenly remembered Richard MacKenzie, who had been all over the news for a while. I wondered what that man was thinking as he spread his genes all over the world.

Abigail asked, looking at her sleeping daughter.

"Hey, what will you do if your child grows up and wants to know about his 'blood'?"

"I'm sure I'll tell her someday. But before that, I'll tell her: 'You can choose your family.'"

Abigail said with a smile. The loneliness of those days was no longer on her cheeks. She had left Fort Helena and finally had the "family of her own choosing."

Outside the window, snow was falling in the Edmontonian sky. The white light melts into the streetlights and quietly piles up. Countless bloodlines may be mixed in each and every snowflake. But that doesn't matter to their daughter. She simply falls asleep to the sound of her mother and father's voices. Their gentle breathing is a surer proof of family than any gene.