-P3-
Please, Burn My Head
An AU-fic detailing P3's events with a not so silent Minato Arisato, who instead of Death, has the Master of Death talking in his head.
In the dark corner of a train heading to a place called "Iwatodai"
"Yo, kid, any idea what a couple of badassess like us are doing in a crappy train like this?" a mental boom rang through a blue-haired boy's head.
"Not a clue Gig…" the boy said sleepily.
"I think it might involve that incident where we took over the student council and you punching the Student Council president in the gut…BWAHAHAHAHAHA!" the voice laughed a disturbing laugh.
"You made it sound like a good idea." The boy retorted in self-defense.
"Yeah, but you believed me. Anyway, kid, something doesn't feel right about this whole thing." The voice stung back at the young Arisato.
"How so?" the young boy awaited sagely advice from the least qualified person to give life lessons.
"Being in your head these few years, going to school, jumping around foster families, forming a one-man gang and watching TV, well, I've observed that your world is completely opposite to mine, the point being this "Kirijo Group" giving us a scholarship despite our outstanding criminal record, something just ain't right here." The voice spoke analytically.
"You're never letting me off the hook for that ONE time in Amsterdam are you?" the boy said with a deadpan expression.
"Kid, when a girl likes you. *Ehem* When a girl with a C-cup and part-Italian Mafia-level lineage likes you, you do not reject her in front of the school via the PA system. You fuck her freakin' brains out! " the voice boomed once more with visible rage.
"That was one of the weirder foster families we've had." The boy ignored the warning and repressed the memory of being beaten with a chair by a bunch of guys in well-tailored suit.
Minato proceeded to block out Gig's voice with some music.
"Burn My Dread...Again? Kid this is the 7th remix of the same song we've been listening to for the last five years! Hell, I'd prefer the opening song of a little Hispanic girl with a pet monkey!" Gig raged in the boy's consciousness.
"My hands, my choice in music. I'll let you pick a song when you have arms." The boy gloated over the voice in his head.
"Kid, when I transfer my mind, I will ship your ass back to Social Services!" the voice threatened the consciousness occupying the same space.
"Hmph" the boy disregarded the last comment.
"Waitamminute! Why are we the only people on the train?" the voice observed.
"Well, people have been avoiding us since that "thing" we did in Kyoto…" the boy trailed on.
"Hey! You said we weren't gonna speak about that ever again!" the Master of Death shuddered at the thought.
"…" the boy just sat in silence.
"Kid, when we agree to keep something under wraps, we KEEP IT SIX FUCKING FEET UNDER THE GROUND! Damn, there's some crazy shit in this world that even you humans in your puny bodies shouldn't ever do," the voice screamed even louder.
"Isn't this usually the time you usually convince me to give up my body so you can go crazy and stuff?" the youth pondered at the voice.
"I've given up on that shtick years ago, without any grave threats to your life, besides the ones usual ones from the batshit crazy things you do, we've got no go." The voice elaborated.
"We're here." The voice murmured.
"Huh? Oh, wake me up when its time for you to sleep." The voice blurted out.
The boy stared blankly into space.
"Hey? Don't give me that look. Fine, I promise I won't leave you in the red light district like that time we were in Singapore." The voice pleaded.
Satisfied, the boy began walking towards the exit.
"…Kid, I smell hotpods!" the voice scanned over for his favored delight.
The boy smacked his face with his right palm. It was going to be a loooong night.
End Chapter 1
Ok, guys. I know there are a lot of good AU P3 fics out there, I'm not aiming for the best, just want a few reviews so I can work on my writing in general.
In this fic, Gig can only be heard by the MC, though being a sort of constant companion to Minato, Gig has influenced him to do some pretty questionable things in the past.