Cursed Legacy ( A Jujutsu Kaisen OC Fic)

Chapter 8:

The rumoured Jujutsu Academy he'd been taught about in passing is a grand conglomeration of really big but sad looking buildings linking together like an unfortunate pile of particularly organised patterns on a tortoise's shell. There were vines creeping over almost every foot of it, clinging on by invading the spiderweb of cracks. It was built in an incredibly structurally sound formation—not that Aoi was knowledgeable in architecture in any way—but the other half had collapsed in ruins, the walls and floorings shows signs of scuffles. Many battles perhaps.

Taking a deep breath, the boy gritted his teeth, shoulders his heavy and incredulously expensive garments and steps through the dilapidated granite doorway. He hummed a merry tune under his breath for comfort in the form of familiarity, just to really set that horrible apprehension that had accompanied him into his forced enrolment at this learning facility. Nothing quite like the crushed remains of a one-time building to guide you on your path of higher learning. Well, not really higher learning, more like child soldiers for hire, but who was he to deny an education nonetheless?

Each one of the boy's steps echoes quietly through the halls, in time with the humming. His body had never felt better after all that sleep. Aoi soon found himself outside the door to the classroom. It is probably the only solid thing in this crumbling place, and is cast in soft shadows. The overhead lighting flickers momentarily, and the number 13 had never looked so ominous.

God, this whole place is a fucking wreck. You would think through with all that wealth they could afford to maintain a more decent learning space. For all this big talk about the Academy, it seems like a pile of crap. Then again, there were not much use for a room with flowers and rainbows if the kids here were going to make craters in the ground like the young Zenin master did. How often were the students were pitted against each other in battle? He muses with a slight worry that he wouldn't have the stamina to last more than a few rounds. Maybe he would get his ass handed to him often too. He hoped his opponents to be someone of the same age, he still had a painful reminder in the form of a bokken shaped bruised on his abdomen to not challenge someone so far out of his league in the future.

It was just yesterday that he'd been adopted into the Zenin family. A sorcerer family. An old, traditionalist and prestigious family. Well, not exactly adopted since he was of their blood anyways, but then again the word 'accepted' doesn't quite fit the description. (They haven't accepted him).

More like sold but Aoi hadn't come to terms with that yet.

So he decided to not think much about it. At least not yet. He had wanted to leave the brothel when he was still living under its roof. But now that he'd been tossed out of the place that was, grudgingly he admitted, a home, it felt slightly like he'd lost a large part of himself.

But Aoi has ambitions to fulfil, and this was the opportunity he was not to let slip between his fingers. These people were like him.

He still doesn't know exactly what these words meant, all he knows was that sorcerers are capable of something like magic. Well again, not exactly. From what he'd been told, briefly and a bit disdainfully by Kaede, it was more spiritual than mythical. That had dampened his spirit somewhat. Magic sounds way cooler. Sorcery sounds like a whole lot less of glitters.

Aoi stops humming and observed the inside through the dirty glass pane of the metal door.

The inside of the classroom poorly lit, and gloomy as hell. There are no windows, only a few bald light bulbs hanging far above them in places. There isn't a desk or a chair of a table to be seen. Instead, there is a large, barren room with a domed ceiling. The crowds of children are split into groups with no apparent semblance of order at all. There is no grouping of age here either. (Though he does seem to be the youngest, and oh god that does not bode well at all.) There are large swathes of empty space between groups. He had never seen such a big gathering of children in his life, even at the brothels. Some of them seem to be just talking, while others seem to be playing a dice game, and he can see marbles and ryo being placed as bets.
Most of the children were dressed in rags or cheap yukatas of the lower classes Aoi was more familiar with. The grey and brown faded drabs with frayed hems and loose stitching made them all look the same. A seamless wave of children that blends into the background. Aoi categorised them differently, his keen eyes picking out the difference between the social classes. Middle classes children are slightly more put together, dressed in cobbled together outfits, though the rough materials betray their less than wealthy backgrounds.