Magi Oneshots

Ja'far || The Assassin || Pt. 1

//SIDE NOTE: So this basically just came to me as I was derping around reading Assassins Creed stuff because, dear Lord, Assassins Creed Origins is dragging me back into that fandom (I've always loved it tho)

Alright, but really this oneshot takes place in a world where Ja'far never met Sinbad. Imagine just tales about the adventures of Ja'far who grew up to be an assassin, and probably the best assassin ever. Oh, and he's older in this. He's much older than like 12. 

Type of reader-san in this chapter: "I don't know how I got here, but I'm not going to question it...OOH, SNACKS" //

Ja'far leaned irritatedly against the brick wall behind him as he watched every person fluttering and loitering around the market. He never liked being in the open, but it was better than having to sit and wait in a hellhole of a cave surrounded by moss and bloodsucking bugs. Still though. Ja'far hated people. He hated many things, but people was near the top of his list. 

He wanted a mission so bad. The chance to fight and win against another pathetic target got his fingers itching to pick up his blades, but he had to stop himself. Giving himself away in front of so many people would be stupid beyond stupid. So, Ja'far watched and watched until he groaned out in frustration. 

"Hey!" someone yelled to him. "You there!" Ja'far looked up to see a group of guards running to him with the look of anger and determination on their faces. 

"Shit," Ja'far hissed pulling up his mask and darting into the crowds of people in the market. He had been too careless. He was well aware he was one of many on a wanted list—he was probably first on that list—but he didn't think the guards would be smart enough to patrol around the market area. 

Ducking under tents and throwing people out of the way, Ja'far ran as fast as he could, barely feeling the sharp things that littered the ground and tried sticking into the thick skin of his feet. "Stop!" they shouted after him. "Stop in the name of this land's law, criminal! Assassin!" 

"Kiss my ass!" Ja'far yelled back, reaching the far end of the market and throwing himself up to rods that protruded from the clay building. Slinging his legs up, Ja'far easily climbed to the top of the building and continued to run across the rooftops. An arrow whizzed past his ear and he let out a long string of curse words. There was a window two buildings away he had his dark eyes trained on, and he somersaulted himself down to the streets below.

A splitting pain erupted in Ja'far's leg as he landed on the ground, but he kept running to that window, and soon he ran up the clay wall into the window. Ja'far listened for the sounds of guards running below the building looking for him.

Minutes passed and everything was silent. His breathing slowed and Ja'far rested his head against the wall to look into the room. The one thing he hadn't noticed before was a young woman sitting atop of a barrel eating an apple in a bored manner. Her eyes scanned him as he froze in surprise, and Ja'far grabbed the weapons from under his torn robes. "Whoa, chill," she said, mouth full of apple. She jumped down from the barrel and looked to him again. "Are you trying to threaten me?" She tried walking to him, but she tripped on her own feet and stumbled to the side. Ja'far frowned. 

"Are you drunk?"

"Honestly, I have no clue," the woman answered. "Also, I don't know how I got in here." Her (E/C) eyes looked to the corner of the room and lit up. "Ooh! Gypsy clothes!" She ran to them, surprisingly didn't trip, and she picked up a (F/C) colored suit that waved in the wind that streamed through the window. 

Ja'far kept his eyes trained on her the whole time. She didn't feel fazed by his presence at all, and it rather put him on edge. She shuffled through the pile of gypsy clothes and glances up to him. "So, why'd you come in through the window?"

"I was running."

"From who?"

"The guards."

"Mm, same here."

Ja'far frowned. "You, too? What for?"

"I stole from the king and have been on the run for," she paused and counted on her fingers, "three months." A grin grew on Ja'far's face. Despite how she came across on first look, this woman was skilled in hiding in the shadows. Or, in this case, a house that wasn't hers. "What about you, huh? Why are you running?"

"Because I'm an assassin," Ja'far said, watching her face for her reaction. He was shocked when she only nodded and picked up a green suit. "What? No scream? No wanting to hide because I'm a killer?"

"You're not the only killer in this room," she said simply and coolly, her voice not matching the darkness in the words she said. She looked back up to him with her (E/C) eyes and tilted her head. "I'll help you bust out of this town," she said. "But you have to let me come with you."

Ja'far scoffed and crossed his arms. "Oh, please. You can't come with me. I'm an assassin. I have work to do. You'll get in the way."

"Fine," the woman said, standing up and walking over to the window next to him. "I'm guessing you have about one minute to change your mind." She inhaled sharply and screamed out the window, "Help! The assassin! He's here! He's here! Oh, God!" Ja'far scrambled to his feet and gaped at her. 

"What the hell are you doing?" he hissed, already hearing the shouts of the guards rushing in the streets below. The woman lazily leaned against the wall and shrugged. 

"Fifty seconds," she said. "Let me come with you, and I can promise we will get out of here without being caught."

"Fine. FINE! Do something!" The woman grinned and began stripping off her clothes. "Whoa, whoa, not that!" Ja'far said, face growing red. 

"Wear the green one," the woman said, throwing one of the gypsy suits to him. When he caught it and looked back up, she was already wearing the (favorite color) suit and pinning the veil around her mouth. "These are more like belly dancer outfits, so this should work perfectly," she grinned, winking to him above the veil. Grumbling, Ja'far quickly put on the outfit, and hid his usual attire under the pile of gypsy clothes. "Wow, your body is more feminine than I thought," the woman said in a surprised tone once Ja'far put his green veil up. 

"Shut up!" he hissed to her. Quickly, she rushed over to him and wrapped her arms around Ja'far's shoulder and pretended to cry. 

"Play along," she said quietly in his ear, going back to crying. The door was thrown open to the room, and Ja'far and the woman pretended to cry, shaking with 'fear'. "He, he, he came in here, and stole my Puka's necklace!" the woman wailed, tapping Ja'far's collarbone. "It was so beautiful, Puka, I'm so sorry he took it!" She pinched the back of Ja'far's neck and Ja'far quickly added with a high voice:

"He was terrible! He left through the window!"

"I'm sorry ma'ams," the guards crowding the doors said, shamefully eyeing their skimpily dressed bodies. Ja'far felt humiliated. "We will catch that thief and bring back beautiful Puka's necklace." No, now he was beyond humiliated. 

Soon the guards left, and the woman tore off her veil and went to sit on the barrel again with a smug face. "I just saved your ass, how do you feel, Puka?" she asked. 

"It's Ja'far," he corrected bitterly. "And who are you?" Ja'far demanded, and the woman smirked wider. 

"(Y/N). Now, Ja'far, we have to leave."