"Son, come here." My father greeted me. I walked over and he showed me his hand. I wished he wouldn't, but he said to himself, "If you become a fisherman like me, you'll grow scales on your hands."
"What's so terrible about having scales?"
"No one wants to play with you, no one will be your friend, no girl will like you, people will see your child, they will say that he smells of fish, and finally... "He said sadly," Even you yourself will become a fish."
The body is determined by the shape of the soul. "With that, my father jumped into the sea and swam away. I never saw my father again.