Many times in his past, Nolan couldn't help but recall his home rather pleasantly, despite its nature. However, now that he stood before it, doubts crept into his mind, he couldn't help but question his memories. Looking back, everything appeared far more idyllic than it truly was.

"Home, sweet home." he whispered softly.

The house, if one could generously label it as such, bore all the telltale signs of the island's slums— a hodgepodge of wooden boards, each in various stages of repair, a testament to their battle against the relentless waters that had repeatedly laid waste to their home. It wasn't a house in the conventional sense; it was a fragile structure constructed from salvaged pieces, constantly under threat from the unforgiving sea.

Several people had made these makeshift structures their permanent homes. Life here revolved around the periodic upkeep of wood to prevent creaking and cracking— a way of life only the people without any options could endure. It was a community born from necessity, where resilience and resourcefulness were the keys to survival.

Nolan's last visit to this place had been an eternity ago. By the time he had earned the title of captain for his own ship, his mother had already passed away, and the burden of his newfound responsibilities had kept him away from this cherished spot.

Only in hindsight, did he regret not returning to this place sooner. The weight of his sorrow bore down on him when he learned that his absence had likely resulted in the loss of the precious gifts his mother had intended to offer him all those years ago. Those tokens of love and care had been sold or discarded in his absence, and the thought of it nearly broke his heart at the time. He won't risk making that mistake again. Then again, He didn't dare will lose his mother this time either.

He took a deep breath, a sigh of relief escaping his lips as he sensed the water still flowing within his frail mother's body. Nolan carefully pushed open the door to their modest dwelling. Above the doorframe, hidden in plain sight, was the key to their home— a secret shared only between him and his mother as they was the only one who know how to take it out without making noise. Her delicate health had made even the simple act of opening the door a struggle, especially to open the door for her 17-year-old bastard son.

As he stepped into the familiar confines of their home, Nolan couldn't help but be overwhelmed by a sense of nostalgia and longing. It was a place filled with memories, joyous but mostly painful.

The main room was small, only used sparingly. A small table sat in the center of the room, surrounded by a few chairs. A small kitchenette was tucked away in the corner, with a few pots and pans hanging from the wall. A small window looked out onto the back, offering a small outlet for the smoke to clear out and allowed a sliver of light in the room.

He turned around and moved to the second room. As soon as he entered his gaze fell upon his mother's bed, a simple and weathered piece of furniture that had been placed centrally. She lay there now, her frail form wrapped in blankets, her breathing steady but labored. The room was dimly lit, casting long shadows that danced across the walls.

Nolan couldn't help but recall the countless nights he had spent by her side, comforting her through the illness.

In those moments, he had despised his existence, yearning for a better future, one where he could provide the one person who had mattered most, with more than just the basics. Only to have that dream cruelly snatched away just as he was beginning to find his way in life.

Other than her, there was nothing in the room other than my hammock. There really wasn't enough room for both of us to have our separate bedrooms. Instead, she slept in the bed and he on his handmade hammock. The hammock wasn't the most relaxing place to lie on. It was made of rope and was suspended from the ceiling. It was a simple affair, but it was all he needed.

Nolan's mother remained peacefully asleep, undisturbed by his presence as he have remained silent, like all those years ago. He stood there for 10 minutes just looking at his mother. The sense of belonging and nostalgia that swelled in his heart was almost overwhelming after such a long absence.

After using his power to wipe away the tears that had welled in his eyes, he made his way to the bathroom, carrying the new clothes he had purchased for himself. It was time to shed the tattered remnants of his past life.

In the small bathroom, he began to strip off his old, worn garments and discarded them into the hamper. On second thought, he decided to shread the clothes and throw them out the window. With a flick, he gathered the water in the air in sharp small blades and used it to cut the clothes into very small pieces. He then threw the pieces out the window with the water that he gathered.

He didn't want to risk anyone finding his clothes and using it to track him down. And it was not like that he will be wearing them again. He had no intention of returning to his old life.

It was then that a sudden thought struck him like a lightning bolt. He had moved through the home with such familiarity, as though it had been a part of his daily life for years. And yet, those habits had long been erased from his memory.

A question lingered in his mind, a puzzle that he added to his growing list of mystries to solve.

Had it been because he had returned to this body that these habits had resurfaced?

What had happened to the soul that once inhabited this vessel? Was it merged as a part of him, or had it moved on?

With no answers coming, he decided to set them aside, leaving them to be investigated later.