Miscellaneous Anime/Manga One-Shots!

workplace hazards (Magi)

It is a sunny Monday morning, one where the clouds seem to drift lazily out of view, trees swaying in the breeze. A typical spring day, the sort of beauty that mocks his head-thumping misery after a weekend of work, work, and more work, with an entire case of Red Bulls downed for good measure.

And so, Sinbad is content to slouch in his swivel chair (has its rigid folds ever felt this cozy?), twiddling his thumbs and pausing to occasionally adjust his tie. He watches groggily as the members of his team filter in, looking just about as exhausted as he feels, and trudge to their respective seats.

The only one who seems to have the slightest bit of energy is Pisti, who twitters around the conference room like a canary on a sugar high, filling Styrofoam cups and ceramic mugs up with cheap instant coffee.

"Mornin', Mr. Sinbad!" She places a steaming mug and a Saran-wrapped blueberry muffin in front of him, accompanied by her sweet smile. "Oh, that's right- we have a new intern coming in today!"

"Another one?" Spartos asks, as incredulous as Sinbad has ever heard him. "Wasn't that girl here just last week?"

"Ah, right," Sharrkan pipes up, idly tossing an apple up and down. "I hear it's a guy- changing preferences, are we?"

Sharrkan nods enviously. "Mm-hm. Quite the cutie, too. But of course, Mr. Macho here," he throws a scowl at Sinbad, "just had to flirt her into submission. The poor dear ran for the hills once he started doling out innuendos like hotcakes."

"I did no such thing," Sinbad says huffily, far too used to his employees' relentless mockery to be terribly offended.

Yamuraiha clucks her tongue, forever the mother hen. "Honestly, Sinbad," she chides, pursing her lips, "your promiscuousness is going to land us in a rut someday. Think of the firm's reputation before getting yourself caught up in all of these scandals!"

"Said the beetle to the butterfly," Sinbad says airily, waving a hand. "Everyone knows you've been sleeping around with Sharrkan."

The two redden and deny his accusation heatedly, Pisti sips her scalding-hot coffee to hide her smirk, and even the sullen Masrur allows a measured smile.

Sinbad leans back, grinning.

All in a day's work.

It's half-past ten when the boy shows up. He leans against the door frame of the office, clearing his throat rather primly.

Sinbad nearly knocks over his coffee in surprise, but manages to steady the mug and composes himself. A lawyer, especially a newly christened partner such as he, must always prepare for the unexpected. "Um, good morning. How can I help you?"

For lack of a better word, he's petite, barely taller than Pisti, with snow-white hair, pale gray eyes, and, much to Sinbad's delight, a smattering of freckles across his nose.

"I'm here for Mr. Sinbad," he announces,

"Ah, that would be me." He clambers to his feet, striding over to the boy and warmly taking his hand. "Please, just call me Sinbad. It's a pleasure to meet you, um-" He falters, embarrassed.

"Ja'far," the boy supplies, pulling away almost immediately. It's just as well, Sinbad supposes, uncharacteristically self-conscious- has he ever felt like such a giant?

Nonetheless, Sinbad can't help but stare, marveling at just how small the boy is. He drinks it all in: the severe line of his mouth, the steely look seemingly embedded in those pretty, pretty eyes, the way his caramel freckles contrast his pale skin- really, it's quite a bit of a change from the shrinking violets that usually apply for the job.