Seven looked over the garments that lay before him. He picked up the combination of a white shirt and light blue button-up, examining them with an apprehensive frown.

The shirt and button-up were simple enough. Both were short-sleeved, the shirt was white with a red bar across the chest that read "SEVEN." It was an off-brand of something else, no doubt. The button-up was solid blue with the brand patched on the left sleeve in a small rectangle. The color was a soft pastel and the fabric was light. Seven didn't mind these, but...

...the shorts.

"What is this?"
Seven asked less of a question and more of a demand for an explanation, putting down the clothes in his hands and looking directly at Da Bao.

"They're shorts!" The chicken responded with a positive tone despite being very nervous.

"Okay but, why?" Seven's eyes narrowed slightly. He didn't want to complain. Da Bao was still providing for him, afterall. He was, however, very tempted to refuse.

"They were the cheapest they had today. I don't know what else you were expecting."

'Fair enough.'

Seven sighed as he thought to himself. He knew by now that this island didn't have anything close to Xuanese clothing which he found odd considering how much cheaper natural fabrics were in Xuanwu compared to here.

'But still...'

He looked down at the pair of shorts with a hint of bitterness in his scowl. The base color was a deep navy patterned with vibrant magenta stars.

Vibrant. Magenta. Stars.

Seven's features bunched up a little bit more. He wasn't going to say he hated the outfit. Quite the opposite, really. He managed to find its outward casual-ness somewhat fitting for the island and perfect for keeping his identity undercover.

It's just...Seven had a very difficult time imagining himself wearing those shorts. They didn't match him at all.

"Well?" Da Bao asked, rubbing his hands together.

Seven was silent for an entire three seconds before looking back up at the chicken, his frown unchanging, "I am buying my own clothes from now on."

"Oh, come on!" Da Bao fell back into the pillows lining the concrete walls behind him. "They aren't that bad! Better than the other day which, by the way, you deserved for walking out into the pissing rain."

"And then the following night's grilled cod tasted like burnt nylon." Seven was quick to answer.

Da Bao grimaced, "A disgusting waste of money, mind you. Literally."

"I don't regret it."

"Uugghh," The chicken sighed heavily and annoyed out of his mind. "Just wear them on laundry day or whatever. Send 'em back if you hate 'em that much." He waved his feathered hand around before dropping it to his side.

Seven looked over the outfit one last time before making a decision. He didn't hate it, that was the problem. He was also not too keen on losing any more money. He wanted off of this island.

"No, these are doable...for now."

"Eh?" Da Bao lifted his head up and watched Seven put his new-old clothes away into one of the white boxes. The chicken fully expected Seven to agree with him, given his initial reaction.

He continued to watch the young man put away his box of clothes and swap it for another. Da Bao was confused, but he wouldn't question it. That was until Seven suddenly stopped after opening their last box of food.

"What is it?"
Da Bao asked with a cocked brow.

Seven looked at the can of water chestnuts before showing it to Da Bao without turning around. "This is all that's left," He said with a blank tone.

Da Bao jumped up, "What?!"
He seemed panicked as he snatched the can from Seven's hands. He stared intensely at the can's label, a nervous sweat forming at his temples. "I was...saving these for something..."

The chicken's voice came out a bit hoarse as he struggled to come to terms with the fact that they are now out of food. Seven on the other hand, wasn't concerned. He faced Da Bao who still had his back turned to him and casually sat back down with his legs crossed.

"We have enough money to restock our supplies," he said.

"If we keep spending our cash on groceries, we'll never be able to find somewhere else to rent."

Da Bao had yet to face the boy, still holding on to his small can of water chestnuts.

"What's wrong with right here?"

"Huh?"
Da Bao snapped around at Seven's question. He had a look of disgust on his face. "Are you kidding me?" He went on, "Everything is wrong with "right here!" This is no place to live! We're better than this, I mean come on. Think of Xiao Fei! This street is certainly no environment for a child."

"He doesn't seem to mind."

"Kikiki!"

Seven blinked as he switched his attention from Da Bao to the happy Xiao Fei, "See?"

"Yeah, well I do! Forget paying off debt if we can't even live under an actual roof!"

Da Bao walked up to the clay basin that had a small fire going inside. He sat down on one of the old cushions they had recycled and began cutting into the can with an old knife. Seven watched him work the dulling blade into the aluminum lid. The process would be painful and slow, causing the boy to instead pick up a stick and poke at the coals of their fire.

"We can eat the beef offal, then. We have to buy more stuff for that anyw-"

"Absolutely not." Da Bao cut off Seven's second suggestion, hating it just as much as having to spend all of their earnings on groceries every couple of weeks. "We need every last spoonful of that stuff to be sold to the customers, and I better not catch you eating it behind my back." He gestured the end of his knife towards Seven with an apprehensive glare, causing the boy to deadpan before rolling his eyes and making a retort.

"I don't think I could be hungry enough for that."

"Good. Ah- got it." Da Bao finally managed to get the can open, revealing the perfectly preserved water chestnuts inside. They were a personal favorite of his, but were hard to come by and usually too expensive to get more than one at a time. These aquatic vegetables served as a tasty treat for the two chickens whenever Da Bao could get his feathers on some.

The chicken put one of the crunchy veggies into his mouth before following up on his previous statement. "I mean, not good. That means it's gross and you need to fix it."

"No. I'd just rather avoid street food in general."

"Mm- Why?"

"Habit."

Da Bao could sense that Seven was partially lying. He probably just didn't want to do the work.

"That's kind of a cop-out answer, but whatever." The chicken had downed his third water chestnut before giving a small handful to Xiao Fei who happily began to munch on them. "Why don't you go fishing or something? You caught that cod the other day before ruining it with your choice of fire starter," He continued.

Seven put the stick down and took a deep breath, now bored of poking at hot coals.

"I could, but you'll complain about it."

That comment irritated Da Bao and he furrowed his brows, responding to Seven with a sideways look. "Uh, excuse me? How would you know? Wh- Hey! Where are you going?!"

Seven had crawled out from under the tarp as Da Bao practically yelled at him. He stretched his body, answering both questions with a flat voice, "Bored, and call it a gut feeling."

Da Bao didn't have the time to retaliate, even though he tried to. "That's stupi- HEY! YOU KNOW I CAN'T AFFORD YOU REOPENING THAT WOUND!"

He shouted as Seven began jumping from wall to wall and vanishing over the rooftops. He knew his words fell on deaf ears, but the chicken couldn't help himself from feeling concerned. He wasn't lying. Their outstanding medical bill of one million yuan was far too much for them.

But, the way Seven moved his body raised its own concerns. Outside of meditating on nearby rooftops, Da Bao was aware of Seven's rather intense exercise routine. The human would leave at least twice a day for hours at a time only to return absolutely drenched in sweat. He worked himself as if he hadn't received an intensive surgery for a would-be fatal wound just two and a half weeks ago. He pushed his body as though he had never lost who knows how much time (and blood) drifting out at sea.

The boy worked and he worked hard - as if his incredibly severe physical injuries were already completely healed.

Da Bao ignored the thought and what it implied.

Something like that just wasn't possible.

¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

"Seven...please..." Da Bao sat by the fire with his wing folded over his abdomen. He stared at the boy, stomach growling and saliva pooling under his tongue.

Two whole days without food. How could he do this? After everything he did for him?

Da Bao's stomach whined almost as loud as he did, "Seven..."

The boy he spoke to bit off a chunk of cooked flesh from the meal he caught earlier this evening. A small squirrel gutted and skewered on a stick, seasoned with absolutely nothing. For a starving chicken, the otherwise bland morsel smelled like paradise.

"Please..."
Da Bao begged, swallowing his own drool before it spilled out of his beak.

"Why? So you can complain some more? I don't think so."

Seven wore no recognizable expression, but he was certainly enjoying this. Ever since he started hunting for their food, Da Bao had done nothing but complain about it. "It's so tasteless," he'd say. "This isn't enough. I shouldn't have to eat like this, I'm a proud man of science!" Seven never hated hearing such statements more than he did now.

He couldn't kill Da Bao, unfortunately. He was still indebted to him and bound by a promise that was completely misguided at this point. Watching him starve for his own pomposity however, was the next best thing.

"You're right. I should've known you weren't joking but please, man. I'm begging you."

Da Bao turned to face Seven directly, his hand held up in front of him as he imagined himself holding the skewer. Seven didn't make a verbal response and instead opted for taking another large bite of his dinner.

"Why are you...such an asshole...?"
Da Bao collapsed, making distressed groans into the cushion underneath him.

"I'm not the one who refuses to buy food with the money I know you have."

"First of all," the chicken held up an index feather. "We don't make nearly enough for that to be worth it. You'd have better luck stealing."

"Hm. Too bad I don't need to steal what I can catch for myself."

Da Bao let out another loud groan into the cushion, his hand plopping down beside him. Seven adapted to life on the island faster than he could have anticipated. The brat even began to pick up on Da Bao's method of manipulating people, making it twice as impossible to argue against him. The chicken would have to reinvent how he'd approach him. Asking for favors would be like playing Xiangqi at gunpoint. One wrong move and it'd be game over. Da Bao dreaded the thought.

The chicken looked over at Xiao Fei who slept happily cuddled in his cat bed, his tiny body rising and falling with his breath. Da Bao's frown softened a little. Despite how clear it was that Seven hated being stuck with them, he made sure Xiao Fei was always the first one to eat. It put him at ease knowing that his adopted son wasn't suffering because he and Seven couldn't get along with each other. Seven's consistent support in keeping the kid cared for made it difficult to believe he was as bad as he behaved, but...

Da Bao glanced back towards Seven as the boy continued to slowly consume his food. Through his body language alone, it was apparent that he merely tolerated the presence of the two chickens. Not because he wanted to either, but because he no doubt felt like he had to. The way Seven obeyed commands as though he were obligated to by contract...That was disturbing.

Humans were cruel and violent by nature, he knew that. He had the misfortune of experiencing just how disgusting they could be firsthand. Yet, Seven...

Seven was different.

He didn't know how or why. In fact, he barely knew anything about Seven outside of his sourness towards everything and aloof personality. The chicken knew he should be satisfied with leaving it at that, but his curiosity kept pulling him back in.

"You've been staring at me a lot recently. Stop it."

'Shit, fuck, damnit-'

"I uh..."
Da Bao struggled to quell his internal panic as he jerked his eyes away from the young adult. He hadn't even realized he was staring.

It didn't matter how much easier it had gotten to be around Seven. He was still terrifying and never made empty threats. Da Bao learned that the hard way.

"Well, j- I, um..." He fumbled over his own words, trying to find an excuse.

"I don't need a reason; I don't care. Just quit doing it." Seven didn't spare Da Bao a glance as he continued to pick at his food.

The chicken sighed in relief, opting to stay quiet for a change. He had one important question that Seven refused to answer several times in the past. Da Bao surmised he'd get the same response if he tried again. He didn't say anything as he attempted to enjoy the evening sounds of nature and the crackling of their cozy little fire. That was until it all crashed into a slurry of puzzling notions he could never quite figure out.

Seven was different. He hated everything and nothing. He was calculated, controlled, impossible to read, and always kept to himself. He rarely spoke and used as few words as possible when spoken to. He was cold and dangerous, violently dangerous. Yet at the same time, Da Bao trusted he'd keep them safe. An awful human being with awfully honest intentions, good or bad.

Da Bao couldn't stop thinking about it.

Just...

"...Who are you?"

Everything seemed to freeze and Da Bao's eyes widened the moment he realized what happened.

'Did I say that outloud?'
He glanced over at Seven who was unnervingly still, his head held low with his hair blocking his eyes.

'Shit, I said that outloud.'

Da Bao had never openly asked that question before, but he knew it was the last thing Seven wanted to hear. He panicked a little, thinking quickly on how to remove such a stifling tension between them.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that out loud." He started with an apology but when Seven simply stayed quiet and unmoving, his anxieties multiplied.

"Y-you don't have to answer that. Ignore me, I- I'm just thinking to myself."

Still no answer.

Da Bao developed a cold sweat and spoke in a frantic manner. "I know you don't want to talk about it. I've just been curious is all. We don't need to-"

"It's okay."

"Huh?"
Da Bao was confused and left without words.

"It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you over a question." Seven's head was turned towards Da Bao. His expression was neither happy nor hostile.

It took the chicken a moment to figure out how to respond. This was new.

"I guess I just expected you to react a lot worse. You usually hate it when I ask questions."

"Because you're annoying," Seven didn't miss a beat.

Da Bao's expression fell. 'Well that makes two of us...' He thought to himself before retaliating, "You know what? Nevermind. Just forget I said anything. Good night." He laid down on the cushion beneath him and rolled over, facing the wall. Da Bao was ready to give up. For three months, he tried to make things work with Seven. For three months, they could never get past tolerating one another. For three months, with every attempt he made at trying to be nice, he was told off with a cold shoulder.

What was even the point?

A few seconds of silence, soon broken by his growling stomach. He groaned quietly, folding his wings over his abdomen.

"...Do you want this?"

Seven's voice was softer than it usually was, prompting Da Bao to turn over just enough to see what was being offered. Food.

Da Bao thought about it. Even if there was only half a charred squirrel left on the stick, it was still more than he had eaten in two days.

"Not from you I don't." He snapped back around, refusing the offer. That was until his stomach yelled in protest. He sighed a heavily exasperated sigh, got up, snatched the skewered rodent from the boy, and sat back down in utter annoyance. He couldn't win.

Da Bao took a bite of the squirrel and paused. No wonder why Seven was eating it so slowly; it was tough, dry, and totally tasteless. He couldn't complain this time, though. It was still something to eat.

Seven shifted positions after a while, sitting with his arms around his knees. His hands rested near his feet as he absent-mindedly made muffled snap sounds with his fingernails.

"I," he started, "actually planned on telling you at some point. I think it would be better if you knew."

"Knew what?" Da Bao looked up from his sorry meal.

"Who I am."

The chicken nearly choked, "When did you decide to trust me with that?"

"I don't trust you, let me make that clear. I've just been thinking about it for a while and concluded it would benefit the both of us."

"It would certainly benefit me. I can finally find who to sell you out to for the most cash." Da Bao teased as he finished the last of the squirrel, tossing the bones and skewer in the fire.

Seven was not amused.

"You'd die."

"I was joking."

"I am not." His gaze sharpened, triggering a nervous reaction from Da Bao.

"Okay, I get it. Jeez. I would never do that anyway. Well I mean, I would, but not to you. I know better than that."

The boy made no response as though he were unconvinced.

"Why are you so serious about it?" Da Bao asked. He didn't expect an answer, but got one he wasn't sure he liked.

"Because of what's at stake. This entire island would be ripped to shreds and while I could make it out on my own, I don't think you'd be so lucky."

Da Bao swallowed the knot that formed in his throat. He knew Seven wasn't lying, which only spiked his curiosity and made the pit in his gut grow heavy.

"That's an awfully vast threat to make." An uneasy smile pulled at the corner of his beak.

"It isn't a threat. It's a warning. I'm an assassin from Xuanwu and I'm being hunted down for reasons I can't explain."

Seven said that so easily that it nearly missed Da Bao.

'Oh...'

But it hit, and it hit hard,

'...shit.'

A lot of things suddenly made sense. Da Bao had his suspicions, but he could never be certain until now. Seven's skill in using qi, his incredible agility, why his footfall is so abnormally silent, and worst of all: how little it affected him when he would hurt someone for pushing their luck. He had a background in killing people for money. His life depended on his apathy and his livelihood depended on such selfish violence.

"Wait," Da Bao registered the last part of Seven's confession. "What do you mean by "can't explain?" Is it top secret? Am I not allowed to know?"

Seven looked down at the little flames dancing inside the clay basin before him. "No, I just...don't remember."

"What?!" Da Bao whisper-yelled to avoid waking up Xiao Fei. "You mean you've had amnesia all this time and didn't say anything?!"

Seven blinked before making indirect eye contact with the chicken. "Partial amnesia, yes." His gaze drifted down again as he continued, "It's left me confused about a lot of things, but I figure I'll get back what's missing with time."

Da Bao leaned back and crossed his arms. His brow furrowed in contemplation as he tried to pinpoint a reason for the boy's affliction.

"I'm sure you will. It could just be a side effect of being unconscious for so long, blood loss, a lack of oxygen from drifting in the ocean, or trauma caused by nearly dying. Honestly, it's a wonder you didn't wake up with anything worse than that."

Seven's expression shifted ever so slightly. He was thinking about something and it almost seemed to bother him.

"Right well," Da Bao tried to redirect the conversation, "other than my death being guaranteed if I tried to double-cross you, what does this mean for me? Are you going to go around killing people to pay me back for saving you? You mentioned it once before."

"No, that's too risky as things stand." Seven crossed his legs and placed his hands behind him, leaning back with his arms supporting his weight. "My qi is still severely depleted, though it has been gradually coming back to me by the day. I can't guarantee your safety until I'm fully recovered."

"What? It's been three months and your energy is still that low?" Da Bao cocked a concerned brow as he leaned his head forward in disbelief. "Doesn't qi recover faster than physical wounds?"

"Normally," Seven didn't sound nearly as concerned. "Though I suppose it's what I get for fighting death directly."

'That makes sense I guess,' Da Bao thought. 'So he subconsciously used his qi as a life support mechanism up until he nearly ran out. I bet that's when we found him and had the Miracle Doctor save his life. If that's skill, luck, or both, it's still incredible...and terrifying.'

The chicken couldn't help but smirk. "I still don't know how this benefits us, but at least I know I've got one durable motherfucker making money for me."

Seven rolled his eyes and turned his head away from Da Bao. "You help me, and I'll help you until my debt is paid. That's the extent of our agreement. Knowing where my skills lie just makes it a bit easier."

Da Bao supposed that was true. He could sell the boy's abilities for odd jobs around the island. Even though Seven wouldn't take any contracts for assassinations at the moment, it still gave Da Bao a lot to think about.

"Speaking of skill," he perked up for another sudden curiosity. "What's your position on the Killer Rankings list? You're an assassin so you've got to have one."

Seven's dull gaze drifted from an old poster on the wall to a small rock on the ground.

"I don't remember," he lied.