The Mafia If official AU is a bit darker than regular Mairuma, which is why language isn't particularly an issue, but I'll warn for it anyway. There are less than 10 chapters of Mafia if, so if you haven't read it, the entire fic is spoiler, so please read it before this. Mentions of character development from official twitter is utilized that can be considered spoilers relating to Alice that has yet to happen in canon au.
Warning: Opera is aged up from canon for the sake of plot. Not proofread.
TW: Mention of young teen pregnancy, mention of past drugged sexual assault (non-graphic), trauma related amnesia, hinted denial of trauma, mention of past body dysphoria, medical questions, blood draw, and swearing.
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Opera awoke to a deep sense of dysphoria. They pressed a hand to their abdomen, while glancing frantically around their room, before recognition kicked in with a sharp inhale and a sigh.
They closed their eyes, breathed in slowly, and followed it on a counted exhale.
They breathed slowly, counting ten completed breaths, before going through an ingrained list.
How long had they been a part of the Babel Mafia? Nine years.
How old was the young Boss, Iruma? Fourteen.
(The same age as-)
They shoved that thought away and opened their eyes to stare at a tiny crack in the ceiling.
How old were they now? Twenty eight.
How old had they been when they'd joined Babel? Around Nineteen.
How long had it been since they'd last been poisoned? Three months.
Who was the current cook? Robin.
They huffed lightly before pushing themself up, while running a hand through their hair. 'I'll have to tell Doctor Balam…'
It had been nine years since Opera had become a Made Man of the Babel Mafia, and nine years since they'd become Iruma's personal Bodyguard.
It had also been nine years since someone finally gave a damn about what they'd done their damndest to ignore ever going through.
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Opera hunched into themself as their nails dug into the bottom of the observation chair…bed… thing with a stupidly crinkly stretch of paper laid across its length for 'sanitation' purposes.
It wasn't their first time visiting a doctor's office, but it was the first time they hadn't done so under extreme distress while hoping they were going to be told they were dying of something terrible, only to be told that they were-
Opera swallowed harshly as the Doctor finished preparing his paperwork and looked them in the eye.
Doctor Balam was the Babel Mafia's top Doctor and medical expert. All of Babel's Made Men went to him, including The Don.
There was no escaping this man's scrutiny.
Doctor Balam cleared his throat lightly, "Alright then. I'll be asking you a number of questions, and while it might feel uncomfortable to answer some, I need your cooperation so that I can give you the best medical care possible, alright?" Opera reluctantly nodded, so he continued. "First, your full name."
"Opera."
He paused a moment before looking them over. "No family name?"
Opera shrugged their shoulders listlessly, "Don't remember my parents, if I even had any."
Doctor Balam nodded to himself while chiding softly, "Everyone has genetic donors, Opera." He hummed, "Then I will simply give you the last name Sullivan for your file."
Opera frowned while raising an eyebrow, "The Don's name?"
Doctor Balam glanced their way as a small smile behind his mask, while a twinkle lit up his eyes, "He suggested it himself, since you'll be the future young Boss Iruma's personal bodyguard."
Opera didn't know what sort of face they made at that, but Doctor Balam chuckled at their expression.
"Moving on, Gender?"
"Neither."
Doctor Balam paused before sighing softly. It wouldn't be the first time he'd dealt with this, but this was also why he warned about his questions at the start. "Opera, as unfortunate as it is, I need to know which reproductive organs you have. The way medicines work, what physical changes one goes through in life… Unfortunately, one's reproductive parts can have a large impact on treatment. Not just the way you dress."
Opera took in a deep breath, swallowed, and sighed while answering with deep reluctance. "...Female."
Doctor Balam blinked, before nodding and continuing on, "Do you know how old you are?"
Opera hummed, "Around… eighteen or nineteen?"
He nodded and continued, "And have you had your monthly bleed before?" Opera nodded as he questioned further. "Has it been regular, or sporadic?"
Opera ruffled their hair. They had to think about this for a moment, because survival in the slums was a lot more important than thinking about months and days. It was more so seasons and the problems that each one presented that could affect one's chances of seeing another sunrise. "...When I was younger they were unpredictable. After I gave birth, they became somewhat regular."
Doctor Balam froze at that in a small panic before seemingly swallowing his immediate reaction to return to professionalism. "I see." He made some notes, and filled out a few other lines before asking his next question. "So you've been pregnant before. How long ago was that?"
Opera leaned back a little in thought, "...Five years, maybe? I was around thirteen or fourteen when he was born…"
Doctor Balam nodded solemnly as he continued to write some notes for their chart. "Did you know the father?"
Opera's face became dark as they growled out, "That fucker drugged me. I don't remember a damn thing about that demon."
Doctor Balam continued to write a handful of notes before asking one final question in regards to that part of their past, "I am somewhat aware that you were brought here under… strange circumstances. We wouldn't want you to have unintentionally abandoned your child in the slums, so-"
Opera scoffed as they rolled their eyes, "I surrendered him to the Police a long time ago." Balam met their eyes as they gave him a somewhat loathing, yet difficult to decipher look. "I chose that kid's survival over anything else. I didn't have money to get formula, and I just didn't have enough milk. The Police had that new program where you could drop off a baby at a specific location, no questions asked. So… that's what I did. It was all I could do."
Opera didn't know why they were even sharing all of that information with him. They hadn't told a single soul about the child they'd surrendered, nor the fact they'd ever been pregnant ever since it'd happened.
They didn't need their long list of enemies hunting them down, or looking around for their surrendered kid.
Doctor Balam wrote a few more notes before making a small pained sound. Opera wasn't sure what to make of that, until they were abruptly grabbed off of the examination table and brought into the much larger man's lap.
They reacted immediately, squirming and panicking at the thought of being hurt or worse, but then they realized the man was petting them. Running his hand over their back, or petting their head. Was he insane?
Doctor Balam sighed softly, "I must apologize, I am very sensitive towards children and young people, and feel fiercely protective of them. It's why I work strictly with the adult individuals of Babel. You and the Young Boss will be the first two young people I've dealt with in quite some time…"
Opera slowly released the tension in their body with a frown and leaned into him. He wasn't touching anywhere inappropriate… it was just.. Weird. Especially since they hadn't been hugged since leaving the women's shelter five years ago.
It lasted for maybe two minutes, when the Doctor seemed to finally regain control of his overbearing nurturing nature, and set them back onto their feet.
"Give me a few more minutes to fill out some more paperwork, and then I would like to kindly ask for your help."
Opera tilted their head slightly, "Help with what?"
Doctor Balam gave them a gentle look, "Help with how we should proceed with your treatment from now on." He lifted a hand before Opera could speak and plowed onward. "Only the Don and myself will be privy to the information you've given me. However, you have physical needs the majority of the rest of our Made Men do not. You need specific supplies, and due to your past experiences, no matter how little you think they affect you, they could cause psychological problems later. There isn't enough study in the areas of such trauma, so I request that you see me if you even think there might be an underlying issue, even if we find that it is nothing to worry about in the end. Your health is of utmost importance to us."
Opera chewed on that a little bit before sighing, "So like, is there anything better than bandages that I can bind my chest with?"
Doctor Balam sputtered, "B-bandages?!" He rubbed his face tiredly while somehow not moving his mask, "Yes. There are many ways one can bind one's chest for comfort." He shook his head, "I will have to give you a full physical, unfortunately, but with that, I can look into getting you a much more comfortable safer binder that fits you, alright?"
Opera brightened in curiosity, "A binder?"
Doctor Balam nodded, "A more recently developed clothing item. It has its uses, but it will most certainly be a much safer option than what you've probably managed so far."
Opera practically threw their shirt off, "Then let's get to it-!"
Doctor Balam was startled by their abrupt action and was prepared to throw their shirt back at them before pausing.
He set down his clipboard and pen, and immediately began to take stock of the chafing and overall injury to their chest and rib area.
The rest of his data collection could wait. The patient's well-being came first.
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Opera took their time getting dressed, because the moment they left their room, they'd have to tell Kalego they'd woken up with dysphoria again.
Which meant a trip to the Doctor.
Opera bit back a groan as they rolled their neck and shoulders while buttoning up their red dress shirt over their binder.
What a pain in the ass.
They sighed, slipped on and tightened their tie, checked their gloves and shoes, and made sure their hair was properly braided while brushing off stray lint from their black slacks before leaving their room to wake up Iruma for the day ahead.
They went through their usual motions. Helping Iruma get up and ready for the day. Ensuring the young Boss' clothes were perfectly pressed. Ensuring his hair was neatly tied back while finishing off his look with his hat.
Greeting everyone, checking Iruma's food for poison, and observing their newest Made Men, Alice and Clara.
(Alice wasn't particularly trustworthy yet, while Clara was. Opera had no choice but to leave Iruma to them and Kalego while absent.)
When Kalego entered the room, their eyes met, and Kalego immediately frowned.
No matter how well they hid it from everyone else, that bastard always knew when something was up.
The Guard Dog of the Treasury pulled Opera out into the hall, another bitter cigarette clenched between his teeth as he seethed at them with dripping sarcasm, "You seem a bit off this morning, Opera. Feeling unwell?"
On paper, it might have sounded like he cared.
But Doctors had a cost, and he was pinching his pennies right then and there.
Opera covered their nose from the smell of his smoke, "Woke up confused today." They coughed lightly while glaring at the offending white stick.
Kelgo sucked in a breath and exhaled a smoky sigh, "So a trip to Doctor Balam is needed?"
Opera nodded silently, with a deep-set grimace while nerves made their way up their throat.
Kalego rolled his eyes, "I'll call him and inform the young Boss you won't be available for his next lesson." Opera panicked, but the man gave them another seething glare to keep them in place as he made his way towards a nearby phone. "Perhaps you could spare the car this time?"
Fat fucking chance.
They ripped off a large chunk of leather on the drive over, while hissing at him from the back seat.
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Opera may be twenty eight now, but Doctor Balam still indulged himself with his brand of affection for the first few minutes of their meetings. It allowed Opera time to relax from their initial anxiety, and they always made him take his mask off in revenge so that they could stare at and touch his spectacular facial scar that warped his lips and cheek.
Over the past nine years, Opera slowly considered Doctor Balam a friend-of-sorts, to the point of being allowed to call him Shichirou in private.
Today wouldn't be one of those days, though, as the Doctor sighed and signaled that he was done with petting them.
Opera shifted and sat down on a regular chair while facing him in his office.
He took out his clipboard and notes, and they got to business discussing Opera's dream, what dysphoria they'd suffered upon waking up, and what might have triggered the dream in the first place.
A day passed with them going back and forth while talking, before the next day brought up a new problem.
"I need a sample of your blood, Opera."
Opera frowned deeply at that and glared at the Doctor before them. "Why?"
Doctor Balam sighed softly while rubbing the back of his neck, "Well, it's for medical purposes. We can now determine blood type, which means if the young Boss or the Don are ever hurt, we can immediately find which of our Made Men have their same blood type, and give them a blood transfusion."
Opera narrowed their eyes a little further, "And..?"
Balam sighed softly, "..And well, we can now find out which of our Made Men might be related to one another. A good number of our Men have been recruited from the Slums, and some are curious if they have any family relations in Babel."
Opera leaned back in their seat in thought, "...Can I refuse?"
Doctor Balam shook his head, "The young Boss would be sad if you were ever injured, and you passed away due to injuries while we tried to determine your blood type."
Opera groaned softly. Of course he would. Iruma was amazingly kind and loving like that. An Angel among Demons, really.
"Also, what if Boss Iruma had a rare blood type, and you were his only match?"
Opera scrubbed at their face. That was the clincher, wasn't it? They couldn't let their young Boss die, could they?
"Alright, fine, I'll let you take some of my blood for your stupid tests."
Doctor Balam sighed softly in relief before he began to prep some tools as well as Opera for the blood draw.
He gave their wrist a gentle squeeze in comfort as the syringe filled with red, "Thank you for your cooperation, Opera."
Opera gave them a resigned glare, "Whatever."
Shichirou chuckled lightly as he swiftly put away his sample and dressed the dot on their skin while thinking nothing of it.
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Shichirou stared at the paperwork and wondered what he'd done to deserve this.
Was this good news? Bad news? How should he even handle this information?
He scrubbed at his face, recalling the last time he'd seen Iruma (all happy and asking him how his scar was doing), and wondering why he'd never asked Iruma certain (psychological and emotional) questions about his past.
The Don would be entering his office any moment along with Kalego to figure out how to proceed with his findings.
He didn't have a chance to think any further upon the subject when the Don, Sullivan, and Kalego entered while swiftly shutting the door behind him. Shichirou stood at attention at their entrance, and gave a respectful bow in greeting as Sullivan sat down in the best seat his office had to offer, while Kalego stood Guard behind him.
Shichirou sat down and gave his papers a final straightening out while Sullivan crossed his legs and folded his hands upon them. His face was serious, despite Shichirou's attempts to assure the Don that nothing was medically wrong with the young Boss.
Sullivan leaned forward with a slight anxiousness and a lot of underlying threat, "So tell me, Doctor Balam, what is this urgent news you have about my beloved Grandson?"
Kalego glared at him from behind the Don, and Shichirou held back the urge to rub at his neck as he answered. "You are well aware of our blood collection for the sake of our Made Men's medical files, as well as collecting information on possible blood relations, yes?"
The Don nodded, "Of course." He'd had his blood drawn first, so that they could make a specific file on every Made Man who was a match for his (and Iruma's) blood type.
"While compiling the data, though I did find a number of Made Men who were possibly brothers or cousins… I did find two that were, without a doubt, a match as parent and child."
Sullivan straightened as he processed that information with unveiled surprise. "...Not many of our Men have a particularly large age gap to fit that possibility." Which narrowed down the prospects to a distressing handful.
Kalego processed that as well, before reaching into his pocket for his pack of cigarettes. Shichirou gave him a harsh glare while catching his eye, and the treasurer growled under his breath while pushing the pack back down and flashing his teeth at the Doctor in agitation.
If there was one thing Shichirou didn't allow in his facility, it was smoking.
Kalego had gotten a full five hour lecture about the hazards and harm that smoking caused to get that message across to the miser.
Sullivan observed the Doctor for a long moment before sitting back in his seat, "Please inform us of this vital information already, Balam Shichirou."
Shichirou winced before clearing his throat and straightening his hastily thrown on tie. "...The ones who are related to one another as child and parent, are Boss Iruma and his Bodyguard, Opera."
Kalego made a face that clearly stated, 'Of fucking COURSE those two troublemakers are related!' While the Don seemed to brighten at the idea and was pleased for a moment before Shichirou doused his temporary joy.
"As you know, Opera and I have had a multitude of discussions about their past. You should also know that I have asked if they would ever be willing to meet their surrendered son, if we should ever happen find him."
Sullivan settled into his seat with a somber frown on his face. "...I am guessing this is where our problem is?"
Shichirou nodded as he continued, "Opera was… vehemently against ever meeting their child."
Sullivan mulled that over for a moment, "Did you happen to find out why that was?"
"They stated, 'Who the hell would ever want to meet the slum rat who abandoned them?' So… this leaves me conflicted. I have unintentionally never asked Iruma certain questions regarding his parents that abandoned him in the Slums… So I am unsure of how to proceed. Does he even know he was adopted as an infant? I just…" Shichirou couldn't help but scrub his hand through his hair in anxiety, "I am unsure of what to do."
Sullivan nodded thoughtfully as he reviewed the information he himself knew from various conversations with his adopted Grandchild.
After a long moment, he came to a decision, "I believe we should first question him, and his answers will determine whether or not to inform him of his biological relation to Opera."
Kalego spoke up in opposition, "But what if he begins to further favor Opera due to this, or inform them himself?"
Sullivan was silent for a moment before shifting to give the Dog a sharp look, "That is precisely what we will determine while questioning him."
Kalego froze before lifting his eyebrows minutely, "You would be willing to stay silent about this?"
Sullivan shrugged before turning back to Shichirou. "I must consider both Opera and Iruma's feelings in this matter."
Shichirou met the Don's eyes evenly, and after a long moment, settled on that being the first step in the right direction. "...Understood."
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There were times over the years when Opera would wake up to Iruma having snuggled into their bed during the night. It was more common when he was younger, but there were times, even at the age of fourteen, when he still did so.
He had seemingly refrained after being declared the young Boss of Babel… but it seemed the habit had yet to be fully shaken.
The young teenager was curled up into their side, and somehow they hadn't awoken at his silent entrance.
Iruma was one of the few who were allowed past their Guard. He was Theirs to Protect.
Opera blinked lazily before slowly moving to run their hand through his hair, and his hands reflexively clung to the front of their shirt more firmly as he hummed softly.
Iruma had been their little brother and friend after they'd entered the Babel Mafia. As they learned to read, he would plop onto their back and read over the crown of their head while holding back their long unruly hair. They watched him learn from Kalego how to count money. They learned how to silently take revenge for any harm that may come their master's way with the most tortuous of techniques. They made themself stronger for him.
Iruma, in turn, hesitantly took up a gun to learn how to shoot.
Opera had been surprised by his particular choice in defensive weaponry, but it suited him more than he ever thought it did. They praised him when his shots were perfectly aimed, even while evading danger.
Iruma clung to them. Took comfort from their presence, and sobbed the first time they'd ever been poisoned for his sake.
They'd felt their throat close up while pain had shot through every nerve.
They'd had enough strength to stab the betraying Server before collapsing.
Opera sighed softly through their nose fondly at the memories.
Iruma was also one of the few aware of their physical gender. They would have preferred him to not know, but one can't easily wear a binder to sleep. Shichirou had, in fact, forbidden them from doing so.
'You need to give your ribs a break.'
The friendly Doctor had suggested breast reduction and/or removal surgery, but the recovery time involved, along with being unable to move their arms after for several weeks… Well. As Iruma's sole protector (until recently), the very thought made them stir-crazy with anxiety and caused them to physically lash out at the Doctor.
It was a good thing Shichirou was stupid-strong, despite how gentle he was with his patients.
The man dropped them to the floor after they broke his medical height and weight scale.
So, Iruma was sworn to secrecy on the matter, and when he'd asked them about what their gender was on behalf of the other Made Men in the Mafia… well. They didn't care about how they were labeled. They were perfectly fluid in their designation, and preferred androgyny to the strict and rigid gender labels of society.
Iruma was so thoughtful and wonderful when it came to each Made Man's preference. It never ceased to amaze Opera that he recalled the names of all 6,666 members of Babel, as well as their designations and random pieces of personal information.
Iruma may come off as naive, but he was incredibly smart when it came to human relations, and inspiring loyalty within Babel.
Even Alice, who they were particularly suspect of when joining, had crumbled into desperate loyalty under Iruma's unique form of connecting with others.
Opera smirked listlessly to themself before placing their hand on Iruma's shoulder. "It's time to wake up, Boss."
Iruma frowned deeply before blinking into awareness. Blue met red for a moment, before he shoved himself onto his hands with a flush on his face, "O-Opera-san!" He glanced around their room as they pushed themself up from bed. "I-I'm so sorry! I only meant to stay for a little while, but…" He bowed his head slightly while ducking into his shoulders, "I guess I got a little more comfortable than I'd planned…"
Opera smirked at his bashfulness and chuckled lightly, "It's no trouble, Boss. Ensuring you had a full night's rest is part of my job as well."
Iruma huffed lightly with a pout before shifting into neutrality. "...Still. I'm the young Boss of Babel and fourteen years old. I should be over this habit by now."
Opera patted him on the head affectionately before moving away from the bed, "As the Boss, you shouldn't give a fuck about what other people think. So long as you're healthy and happy, I couldn't give a shit about what others might think."
Iruma lightly rolled his eyes at their answer before smiling slightly to himself. "You're right." He pushed himself out of their bed and turned away from them while brushing his hair with a brush they kept in their room for his use. They moved behind a dressing screen to put on their binder for the day, while throwing on a dress shirt and buttoning the first three buttons before moving back towards his side to nudge him slightly. "I'll be by your room in ten minutes, so look sharp and get ready for your next lesson."
Iruma smiled up at them with a nod, put his brush away, and left them to get ready.
They pondered while dressing what might have brought the young Boss to their room this time.
Usually it was due to a particularly bad nightmare, but sometimes he sought out physical contact.
They asked him after they placed his hat on his head before heading out for breakfast.
Iruma blinked up at them and flushed lightly. "Eh? Oh. Uhm…" He seemed oddly uncomfortable for a moment, before giving them a helpless shrug and smile. "I just wanted to hear your heartbeat and take in your scent. It's relaxing to me."
Opera blinked at his admission, though it wasn't the first time he's ever stated as much.
They shrugged it off, and they went about their day and lesson as usual.
That was, until things went south for the first time in ages as they took a bullet through the chest.
They were just barely conscious enough to witness Iruma's first kill.
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A/N: This story will be a two shot fic, though if readers would like to read through when Opera first found out they were pregnant through surrendering their child, I do have that mentally mapped out, and could make it the third chapter of this particular Au of an Au.
Please let me know if you enjoyed the story by leaving a review!