Cursed Legacy ( A Jujutsu Kaisen OC Fic)

Chapter 2:

On the night of that incident, Aoi had left the alley when the sun disappeared over the horizon. He had snuck out of the bustling districts to explore the abandoned buildings in the corner of the village. The boy was five now, and he was allowed to leave the courtyard on his own with the promise of being back before the sun was to set. It is dark outside, the red lanterns of the akasen district are just beginning to be lit by the errand girls. Their red glow spreads out and blurs in the gloomy mist, painting the early evening crimson. Already, the boy can spot men and women emerging, prowling the streets for a customer or a partner. If his exploration hadn't been the most exciting thing he'd done since being born, he would've regretted coming out at all. He was young, vulnerable and pretty, and nights in the red light district can be very, very dangerous.

Aoi knew exactly what happens to little girls and boys in this district when stumbling across the wrong person. He has witnessed a few first hands. It was just the way things are here, the the slums of brothel and shady backstreet dealings. The boy didn't intend on being one of them.

This is why I need to plan ahead, he thinks to himself, keeping his eyes solidly on the ground in front. Here, every fetish is fed and morals are nowhere to be found.

What if somebody tries to buy him?

What if somebody doesn't even try?

What if some matron decides she's running low on working boys and wants to restock her stables?

He clenched his fists, walking a tad bit faster, weaving in and out of the crowd of patrons and clients alike.

Where the fuck was his brothel?

He couldn't even begin to explain where exactly he was in relation to every other building, because the red light district was a sprawling maze without any sense of order. Its alleyways spreading out in every direction and streets winding back on themselves. It was probably built to confuse intruders, but all it seems to do is confuse natives who haven't memorised these pathways for their entire lives. It's not like maps exist, as helpful as they would be.

Maybe he could ask one of the nicer looking women?

It's risky, nobody likes an akasenko.

The name makes him snort. Child of the red line, whore's child, harlot's brood. Whoring was the world's oldest profession, and it had few masters. His most prominent caretaker was a perfect example, Keiko chose to work her way up was nothing short of respectable. Respectable, because Keiko chose this path and walked it willingly. But respectable or not, Aoi was a child, and he has no desire to become a prostitute.

His gut churned at the revolting thought.

He'll admit it, the sense of panic was starting to creep in.

His feet move a bit faster, he was practically running now, tearing his eyes away from the ground in a move that is equal parts bold and desperate. He could feel eyes on him, burning into his tiny form from all directions. The boy needed to find his brothel before somebody tries to take him.

Little fingers dug crescents into his palms,
knuckles turning white as he grip his sleeves tightly. His footsteps were brisk and uneven on the down trodden pavement. The sound of his steps was soon drowned out by the noises of many more. The streets were beginning to fill up, and he could still feel the curious, appraising eyes on his body. It felt slimy and gross, Aoi wanted to rip those eyes out of their observing faces with his tiny hands and mash them to bits in his palms.

He suddenly wishes he had more than scraps of threadbare wire on him. But that doesn't matter, he kept walking. Aoi was only four.

The boy hasn't even made it a full block away when a calloused hand was suddenly pulling on his arm. He should have been more aware of his surroundings. Aoi's instinct was telling him to bolt, to run from that dark alleyway without looking back, but the hand was gripped too tightly around his forearm. The boy looked up at the nameless assaulter, sees his sly face and unkempt brown hair.