Chapter 11 of Mafia if was… interesting, in regards to Opera's character, and their relationship/views of Iruma? Like… I'm still of the opinion that they would be proud of Iruma's shooting capability as I've stated in this fic, but also, that they would hope that he'd never have to dirty his hands with a kill. Which is why they strongly dislike Iruma actually *carrying* a weapon.

They're so protective of him, Opera and Iruma are absolutely family in all of the ways that count in canon.

(Chapter 11 also changed the way I went about writing a lot of this half of the story.)

Also, if you're confused about my technology/etc for this… it's because Mafia if is a weird hybrid of tech/aesthetic of anytime between 1920-2015 or so. So like… -severe shrug-

TW: Past child neglect, verbal abuse, abandonment, derogatory language, blood, trauma, processing trauma, PTSD/stress, and recalling traumatic events.

xXx-xXx-ten years ago-xXx-xXx

For a four year old, Iruma was particularly self-sufficient.

That was not to say it was a good thing- it was in fact, a horrible result of his upbringing.

For as long as he can recall, he has mostly lived outside in his parent's garden. His personal tent is set up right next to the storage shed, though he is (reluctantly) allowed to camp inside of it if the weather is dangerous enough.

(Even though some of the hired help live more lavishly and comfortably than he does, Iruma doesn't complain. So long as he's fed, he's happy.)

The maids and butlers assign him to do the more annoying jobs, such as cleaning in areas that are inconvenient or difficult for them to bend and reach to. All while they whisper about his situation behind gossiping hands, and he can only ignore them as he continues to wipe away dust and other various questionable stains, or spills.

He gets to bathe once a week, though, if there's a party of some sort, he'll be given an extra one and told to hide away in the back of the gardens with an extra serving of food.

It's lonely, but when his parents come by to visit him on rare occasions, they praise how well he cleans, all while keeping three or more feet of distance between them.

Iruma hears things, and he knows it's for the best that they don't shower him with love and care.

'You know, they might be rich, but marrying as first cousins is a bit…'

'They eloped, and the lady's never been with child-'

'-the Master's connections to the Police Force-'

'Poor thing was abandoned at the Station.'

Iruma ignores them as he works, but at night when he curls up in his bed roll-

They echo in the dark.

X-x-X

Iruma is confused when he's given a particularly nice bath- with warm water!- and some slightly oversized clothes. They're not new, but they're clean, and less worn-for-wear.

He's barely gotten his shoes on when his father comes into the room with a foxlike grin as he kneels down in front of him. It's the closest he's ever been, and Iruma feels dread as the man grasps him uncomfortably by the shoulders. "It seems that even a slum rat can clean up a little."

Iruma glances up at him while swallowing. His father's face is more shadowed than ever, as white teeth grin at him from above. "Maybe you'll get lucky and meet that bitch who gave birth to you. Who knows? But you've outlasted your usefulness, so I'm returning you to the streets where you belong. You're just not pulling enough weight around here, y'know?" He took out a small envelope while chuckling to himself. "Ah, right. Here, it's the only thing your whore of a mother left for you, though, you'll probably never be able to read what it says."

He'd barely taken the crisp small black envelope into his numb hands before being unceremoniously lifted off of his feet under his father's arm like a sack of goods. All he can do is feel sick and confused while he's placed into a car and delivered to a back street, where he is kicked out and abandoned.

Iruma was lucky to have found that cave on the outskirts of the city, while eating a handful of grass-

Nor would he ever forget Ameri's surprise at his appearance, and the compassion she showed by taking him in.

He felt what might be affection from another living being for the first time.

xXx-xXx-redblood-xXx-xXx

There are nights, when Iruma takes a moment to open his side dresser drawer and stare at the black envelope, the only "gift" his father (and really, his birth mother) had ever given to him, before closing it silently.

No one has ever, thankfully, noticed it… though if they did, it looked unopened and crisp, without any sign of wear due to his diligent care. Any tampering would be immediately noticed, and Opera would hunt them down for messing with his stuff.

One might wonder why he had never opened it, but the answer was easy enough to discern.

As a child, he initially simply couldn't read what the contents might hold, so he held off on opening it until the day he was confident he could.

…But with time and education, he grew a sense of wisdom and intuition.

Iruma was, plainly, terrified to open that small envelope for many years.

His father's words, the hidden and unspoken meanings, became clear through both intuition and imagination from the conversations he couldn't understand as a child.

He was his father's son, but he was not his 'mother's.'

…And some poor woman out in the slums had gone through the unspeakable, and had to miserably struggle to give birth to him, before surrendering him to the Police.

Iruma took in a deep breath as his chest tightened a little in grief at the thought. That he'd never be able to meet them and apologize, or help them-

But he was a part of her trauma, and his father was the gleeful bastard who'd made her suffer.

He turned away from that drawer time and again, a miserable coward once more.

xXx-xXx-redblood-xXx-xXx

Doctor Balam is always kind to him, and after a session of skinship, he releases Iruma to sit on his observation table.

The paper crinkles beneath him, but he's used to it. Doctor Balam is wonderful, and even when he has to give shots, Iruma is never afraid. He's capable of administering them without pain, and he always gives Iruma candy afterwards.

Doctor Balam hums as he finishes Iruma's basic physical, nodding to himself as he fills out his paperwork for his file. "Iruma-kun?" Iruma hums in response as the Doctor continues, "Would it be alright if I draw your blood for our records?"

Iruma pauses at that and his heart stills. His father was deeply connected by family to the Police- it was how they'd figured out his parentage… or, at least, that's what he's been able to figure out with what little he's carefully asked to be investigated.

(He asks his questions so innocently that no one has made the connection that he's gathering intel.)

Iruma shrinks into himself, "...Why?"

Doctor Balam tilts his head slightly, "Well. We now have our own internal database and technology to be able to collect samples from our Made Men. As you know, several of them come from the slums and are curious if they have blood relations within our Family. In your case, if you're ever critically injured, we'd like to know who all within Babel shares your blood type so that we can give you blood as quickly and efficiently as possible."

"So it's our own private database?"

The Doctor nods, "Yup! So no need to worry about law enforcement intervention!"

Iruma rubs his neck while smiling uneasily to himself before giving him a genuine smile. "Sounds good! And if needed, I could give blood too-!"

Doctor Balam's face shadowed threateningly as he loomed into Iruma' space, "In what world would we, as your underlings, ask you to give us blood?"

Iruma swallowed thickly while leaning back as he squeaked, "...A nice one?"

Doctor Balam stayed still for a moment before he huffed as he pulled back with a shake of his head, while unconsciously petting Iruma and leaving his response to hang in the air unanswered.

xXx-xXx-redblood-xXx-xXx

It was a few days later, while randomly opening that drawer, that he finally plucked up the courage to open the envelope.

He cautiously pried open the letter's seal with an envelope knife, and with a painful swallow, he slid out the small piece of parchment held within.

Coda
October 4th, XXXX
Male, Born at 6:49AM with a healthy weight

Iruma stared at it in confusion, before slowly allowing himself to plop onto the side of his bed, numbly.

His mother had done her best to make sure he was born healthy.

She had chosen a name for him.

He had a birthday.

Iruma shifted the card and noticed a neat scrawl shadowing through the parchment in the dim light of his room. He turned it over, only to catch his breath at the loving words of encouragement and care left behind by the individual who had helped his mother during her most difficult time.

Iruma lowered his arms to rest on his legs as tears filled his eyes. He made sure not to leave a single tear stain on that small piece of paper, as he shakily slid it back into its envelope and placed it back into its spot in his side drawer, before burying himself into his covers.

He sought out Opera in the deepest part of night and fell asleep surrounded by their scent, as well as the beat of their heart.

xXx-xXx-redblood-xXx-xXx

It was after Iruma had been called to a private meeting with his grandfather, that Don Sullivan and Doctor Balam settled into their own respective chairs while Kalego stood behind the Don.

Iruma fidgeted as he sat down in his own seat across from them, feeling the chill of the lack of Opera's reassuring presence behind him, as they were previously sent off to do some sort of errand.

Iruma clenched his hat as he placed it on his lap, "Uhm… is there something wrong with my health..?"

The situation wasn't the least bit normal, and he couldn't help but feel leery of the grim and serious expressions on the older men's faces.

Doctor Balam cleared his throat and adjusted his tie, "No, you're perfectly healthy for your age. However, due to some unforeseen circumstances, I need to ask you a number of questions about your upbringing before you came into Babel's care."

Iruma straightened his back, stiff for a moment, before easing into minute resignation. "...Ah." Kalego narrowed his eyes at that response, but Iruma ignored his Sensei and kept himself focused on the Doctor. "I'll answer what I can."

Balam nodded as he began his inquiry, "Before coming into the Don's care, you'd informed him that you were five years old, and that you didn't know where your parents were. When was the last time you'd seen them, before you were adopted by Don Sullivan?"

Iruma was silent for a long moment as he gathered his thoughts while staring at his hat. "Uhm…" He took in a stiff breath before looking up to Balam, "I'd last seen my father when I was four years old. I'm not sure about how many months I'd been out on the streets."

Balam frowned at that, "Did he disappear or something?"

Iruma shook his head, "No, he put me in a car and had someone else drop me off in an alley and leave."

Kalego grit his teeth silently at that, while Balam made some notes. If it weren't for the fact that they'd discussed how this meeting would go, Kalego knew for certain the Don would be hugging the brat and sobbing over him.

As it was, the Don was silently seething, and it made Kalego's skin crawl due to how close he was to Sullivan, despite the man's calm demeanor.

Balam continued, "And your mother?"

Iruma shifted a little in his seat and rubbed a shoulder in nervousness as he avoided looking at them. "There was my father's wife… but she wasn't the one who gave birth to me."

Balam's brows shot up at that, "I see. Did your father ever say anything about your mother?"

Iruma's demeanor shifted dramatically at that question.

If Sullivan made Kalego's skin crawl with his silent rage, the feeling Iruma exuded at that question filled the room with stomach dropping dread as deep unfamiliar shadows crossed his usually sunny features.

Iruma's voice was rough and deep as he glared menacingly at the hat in his lap while he nearly crushed it. "...Right before abandoning me… he told me they were just some whore, and mentioned something about me cleaning up well for a slum rat." And it hurt him to ever repeat such despicable words as he felt rage and nausea all at once.

Iruma never wanted to be like that man. Ever.

Balam made his notes, while doing his best to hold back his own personal rage. 'How dare he? What sort of adult said such a thing to a child? Let alone a father to their son?' Balam took in a deep breath as he controlled himself from snapping the pen in his hand as he continued. "I see."

Iruma took in a few measured breaths before returning to some semblance of calm as he eased back into his chair and watched the Doctor write. "What does that have to do with anything, though?"

Balam hummed in thought, as he tried to discern what it was he should say.

Kalego clicked his tongue, "What feelings do you have towards your missing mother?"

Balam glanced his way with a warning while Iruma tilted his head towards Kalego's direction with pursed lips in thought. "The person who gave birth to me?" Kalego nodded before Iruma gazed towards a random spot on the wall behind the three adults.

Perhaps, if he had still left that envelope unopened, he would have simply said that he hoped they were alive, happy, and healthy.

-But a part of him had also felt deep guilt towards that person. That his burdensome existence had caused them misery, so much so, that they'd had to surrender him to the Police at only four to six weeks old.

After looking at that card, he'd wondered how deep their anguish went as they'd suffered, before leaving him behind? Hoping that maybe, just maybe, he could have a better life, adopted outside of the slums they lived in? That maybe he could escape a cycle of poverty, only to end up in his rich biological father's home, which held no love for him and only neglect?

Iruma took in a deep calming breath before quietly responding, "...Melancholy and pity."

Balam nodded slowly. "Would you ever want to meet the person who gave birth to you?"

Iruma met his eyes with a hollow smile and a misplaced knowing look in his eyes. "I wouldn't want to trouble them by reminding them of the trauma my father, and my birth, put them through."

Balam slumped slightly at that, "I suppose that's understandable, with what you've said… but still. If you could at least know who she was, even if you never told that person you were related, would you want to know?"

Iruma closed his eyes for a moment, before slipping his hat on with a strange air of maturity. "Is my mother somehow a member of Babel?"

Balam stiffened, while Kalego and Sullivan watched him sharply.

"...Do you really want to know?"

Iruma lifted his head slightly, only showing part of his face as he presented a fake smile as he stood from his seat, "I think I know enough without you telling me." He bowed slightly, "I think I'll see myself out."

He moved, and it wasn't until he was halfway to the door that Kalego growled out, "Iruma, wait-"

The young Boss of Babel paused, before turning towards Kalego with a bitter air about him as he glared from under the shadowed brim of his hat, "Don't worry Sensei." He shifted and turned the doorknob as he made to leave, "I won't let this information impair my judgment during a Mission."

And the door closed behind him.

xXx-xXx-redblood-xXx-xXx

To say things were weird for a few hours after that was an understatement. Iruma was strangely standoff-ish during dinner, which only put Opera on high alert.

By morning, however, Iruma's strangeness had disappeared, and he was his usual self around the Don and Kalego.

He did, however, flinch twice during normal contact with Opera throughout the day.

Iruma brushed it off with an uneasy smile he shot their way, but he felt guilty about it. He hadn't meant to become over-sensitive towards them.

If only he hadn't been questioned about his past.

He'd always done his best to not answer personal questions outright- he didn't want to think about it, even though it was something Iruma thought about pretty regularly.

Especially once he'd understood what the pale scars on Opera's stomach meant.

Being sworn to secrecy about their chest was obvious to him, even as a child. The other things he'd noticed about them?

Those were obviously even deeper secrets he could never dare to breathe to another soul.

Especially since Opera always made sure to change where he couldn't see them.

So days passed into weeks, as the small damning amount of information he'd learned grew in the back of his mind.

He'd suspected it for years now, if he were honest, but it was always something he could reason himself out of easily enough… well, until he'd opened that envelope.

Why else would Don Sullivan, Kalego, and Doctor Balam have a private meeting, and ensure Opera wasn't there? Opera was the one person in Babel he was closest to- even moreso than his Grandfather or Kalego.

So when things went horribly during the Mission they were on by being abruptly ambushed by a rival Mafia-

The moment Opera had pulled him in front of them, as their body jerked from the impact of a bullet- it was as if all of the air in his lungs had disappeared as he felt their collapsing weight fall against him.

He'd unholstered his gun without thought as Alice caught Opera on their way down while Iruma unlocked the safety and shot three perfectly aimed rounds.

Three bodies hit the floor while Ameri snatched him from the side.

He didn't struggle against her, but he shot three more rounds on the way towards the exit with bullets following their every step, before backup from Babel arrived and took over their exit.

Kalego hadn't even had time to exit the car before he noticed Opera's body in Alice's hold and stepped back in, while Alice placed the downed bodyguard on the back seat. Iruma swiftly crawled in with them, placing his blazer over the entry wound and using his body to place as much pressure as he could to slow the bleeding.

Ameri and Alice rode behind the car on motorcycles as they took care of any pursuers, while Clara watched anxiously from the front seat as Kalego drove with expert precision.

Soon enough and after forever they were clear of any pursuers, and coming to a harsh stop in front of a familiar medical building.

Hands pulled Iruma away as Opera was unloaded from the car, only to swiftly disappear on a stretcher into the building.

Iruma hid the inside of his stained white glove against his chest, as he bit into his lip harshly while holding back tears as he shivered.

Opera would make it.

They had to.

xXx-xXx-redblood-xXx-xXx

"You'll have to give up some of that garish white when you take a life."

Iruma stared at his closet listlessly, as Kalego's past grumblings echoed in his head.

It had been two days, and while he'd been left alone for one, he knew Kalego wouldn't allow anymore than this. His continued education was of utmost importance, as there were enemies to find, payment to be secured, and deals to be made.

Iruma took in a deep breath and pulled out a blue button up shirt that matched the color of his hair.

His other suit pieces would stay the same, but his shirt, gloves, and tie would now take on new colors.

He adjusted his white tie, and put on a fresh white blazer over his shoulders before staring at his hands.

Iruma smirked at the clean pinkish skin, before slipping on black gloves, and securing his gun to his belt.

'Opera will be disappointed.'

Iruma shook his head ruefully, and made his way out to press his hand against the door of Opera's empty room before beginning his day.

xXx-xXx-blueblood-xXx-xXx

Normalcy settled in slowly as two weeks passed before Opera was returned to them for continued recovery.

That was not to say that they were healthy and ready to return to work. It was merely decided that they would be more comfortable at home in a familiar room and less stressed... because boy oh boy had they been stressed out since they'd awoken from their healing coma.

Balam had been quick to let Opera know that their destroyed binder had saved their life. Had they not been wearing it, they would have been shot through at the worst angle possible, and bled out before they'd arrived.

Still… they wouldn't be able to wear one for another week, so they were left with Balam or Kalego bringing them meals, or watching over them for the sake of keeping their privacy.

Iruma was nowhere to be seen, and… they were fine with that.

They didn't want to think about it. The sounds of three rounds followed by the dropping of bodies as they blacked out.

The chilling look in Iruma's eyes-

Opera breathed in carefully and sighed out the rest of that thought.

If Iruma had been shot, Opera would have done more than kill them, anyway.

Opera closed their eyes with a pained frown. Their healing wound ached, and while they were on an appropriate dose of pain medicine, they were still uncomfortable.

They felt so weak.

Opera cautiously ran a hand over their chest and let their fingers run over the ridges of their bandages.

They slowly allowed their body to rest, and fell into a dreamless slumber.

xXx-xXx-redblood-xXx-xXx

Iruma could barely eat the day Opera was returned to them. His appetite was shot, as he cycled between ecstatic joy that they were well enough to return home, and absolute dread that they'd realize he'd made his first kill.

It was an expected aspect of being part of the Mafia… but Iruma understood Opera's distaste of the idea of him actually killing someone.

It was one thing to be praised in practice for the sake of self defense.

It was a whole other issue when it actually involved a kill.

Iruma had had nightmares that plagued him after that night. The what ifs, and the lamentations of the faceless dead.

Iruma cried in the deepest dark silently, knowing that even if Opera had been there, he wouldn't have been able to go to them for comfort.

The Young Boss had done his best to play off his nightmares and tears, but his Made Men were far too sensitive towards him. Already on high alert with just Opera's presence missing, they had begun to be hyper diligent towards him from the moment they'd returned home to Babel.

During Opera's unstable recovery Iruma would sometimes go to make warm milk, only to stop and remember Opera wasn't there. Various other small things began to pile up over the days, as he found himself seeking out Opera's familiar presence.

Clara was the first to ignore rank and pull him into her chest, telling him to cry while brushing her fingers through his suddenly untied hair.

Ameri would take him on walks through Babel's gardens, or small dates to cheer him up.

Alice… well.

He'd pressed him against a wall while staring at him silently on more than one occasion, with the final time ending with the statement, "You don't have to hide it- Opera's more than just your bodyguard, aren't they."

Iruma hadn't answered him, but he'd stared at the burn scar that covered the left side of Alice's face, and made to touch him, before the older ex-investigator had backed off.

It was a week after Opera's return that he'd pulled out that envelope again.

He'd eased out the paper with his true name, and burned the image of that card and the message hidden on the back into his mind.

He tucked it away once more, and finally made his way towards Opera's room in the middle of the night.

xXx-xXx-blueblood-xXx-xXx

Opera slowly awoke in the dark of early morning due to finally acknowledging the other presence in the room.

It took a moment for them to adjust, as a dim desk lamp cast harsh shadows against his younger features.

Iruma looked like shit.

At first, they'd been glad that their young charge hadn't come by to visit them. It was a relief for them, knowing that the moment they looked at him, they'd feel deep shameful regret that they'd helped end his innocence.

He was still a child. Just because they'd enjoyed beating the shit out of anyone who had made eye contact with them at his age, didn't mean he was of the same cloth. He was gentle, loving, and caring to a fault.

Taking a life would harm him more than any physical wound ever could.

However, as the days rolled by, part of them became angry. It was unreasonable of them, but they couldn't help but feel indignation at his avoidance, despite nearly dying for his sake.

But now, looking at him in the dim light, they realized he'd probably agonized over how to approach them the next time they met, too.

Iruma shifted slightly with a hum, before opening his eyes with a sleepy blink and lifting his head. His eyes widened and filled with tears as his blue met their red. He went to speak, but nothing came out before he could finally find his voice. "Opera..?"

Opera nodded minutely, and Iruma reached out his hands to them.

They reached back, and he clasped their hand close to himself while fresh tears fell with a sniff as he bowed his head. "Ah, I'm so grateful that you're still here..!" He squeezed their hand as he sniffled sharply, "Please don't ever do anything like that again..! Please..!"

Opera huffed lightly as they graveled out, "That's kind of my job."

Iruma shook his head sharply. "I know-! I just…" He slowly lifted his head to meet their eyes once more. "I don't want to lose my…" His voice drifted into silence as his face fell and his eyes slid away from theirs into solemn quiet acceptance.

Opera furrowed their brow at him. "You're being weird, Boss."

Iruma closed his eyes as he stayed silent.

Opera observed him, as the silence dragged into an uncomfortable minute. "...Iruma?" Their voice was full of gentle loving patience for him.

Iruma sighed softly, before letting their hand go. "...Sorry. I'm not supposed to be like this."

Opera didn't think he was being unreasonable at all and frowned.

Iruma slowly pushed himself up while drying his eyes. "Thank you for saving me, Opera."

Opera blinked up at him as they decided to roll with his mood, "You're welcome..?"

Iruma gave them a hollow smile, before bowing slightly. "Goodnight."

Opera nodded slightly as they felt sleep beginning to pull them back under and mumbled, "G'night."

Their eyes were closed, but they didn't miss his tiny whisper in the dead quiet of night at the edge of sleep. "Goodnight, Hahaue."

Opera's eyes snapped open as the door clicked shut.

xXx-xXx-redblood-xXx-xXx

Iruma fiddled with his black gloves as he pulled them on tighter. He frowned and glanced at himself in the mirror.

Was he... growing again?

It's not that it didn't make sense, all things considered. He just always felt awkward about asking for more clothes when he had perfectly good, and some even unused, garments in his closet.

He sighed softly to himself, as his joints made themselves known to him as they ached.

It was an annoying sort of ache, too, but he'd ignore it for now. It wasn't something that would impede his daily activities.

(Except when he knocked over the salt during dinner last night.)

That'd been awkward, and Clara had patted him on the shoulder in sympathy while giving him a small knowing smile.

It didn't help that his voice would randomly betray him at the worst of times. He'd answer in a perfectly normal manner, only for it to suddenly break either into a higher or lower pitch.

It was embarrassing, and it was sort of beginning to piss him off… So when Opera and Sullivan barged into his room that morning, he'd snapped at them and growled, "Back off!"

They'd stilled, he'd stilled, and then he flushed as he realized who he was snapping at and backpedaled. "Ah, uhm, sorry, Grandpa, Opera-san! I just..!" He rubbed his shoulder awkwardly with flushed cheeks, while ignoring the way Opera was taking in the shift of his clothes. "I'm kind of in a bad mood this morning, sorry."

Sullivan moved to him and pulled Iruma into a careful hug with a sympathetic tone, "Your voice is deeper today. Are you sick? Do your joints hurt? Do I need to call Doctor Balam?"

Iruma sighed softly as he hugged his grandfather in reassurance, "It's just growing pains. I'm… fine."

The Don hummed as he carefully brushed back his hair a bit before backing off to observe him. He nodded to himself, "We'll have to get some new clothes tailored for you as quickly as possible!"

Iruma scratched at his cheek awkwardly as he avoided looking at either Sullivan or Opera, "Ah, uhn." Iruma chanced a glance at Opera, and he was not prepared for what he saw when he met their eyes. "...Opera?" Sullivan turned to look at them while Iruma stepped closer to them. "...Are you okay?"

Opera ignored the tears piling up in their eyes as they blinked and seemingly shook themselves back into the present with a harsh sniff. "I'm- fine, Boss."

Iruma blinked, and Sullivan tilted his head in thought as he observed them with open eyes.

Iruma disagreed, and went to wipe at their face before they caught his wrist.

The two of them froze, and slowly understanding bled into Iruma's eyes as he gently stated, "Oh… so you heard me."

Opera swallowed thickly as they hoarsely asked, "...Why did you say that?"

Iruma tilted his head in thought as he watched their face. He took in a small breath, "Can I ask you something?" Opera took a moment to contemplate their willingness to answer, before Iruma took the plunge and spoke anyway. "Does Coda mean anything to you..?"

Opera's eyes widened as their grip on his wrist released. They took in a sharp breath as they strained with an amazing amount of control and unveiled weariness. "Where did you hear that name..?"

Iruma's eyes sharpened, and they realized they must have messed up somehow as a small sardonic grin passed over his features. Opera took a half step back as Iruma watched them with an unreadable gaze before softening. "Not long after I was born, I was surrendered to a Police Station."

Opera's throat closed in emotion as their stomach dropped.

Iruma was quiet for a moment as he gathered his thoughts, while holding his freed clenched hand against his chest in self-comfort. He dropped his gaze while taking in a deep breath, "I guess… there had been an envelope tucked away with me. When the Police placed me with my… genetic donor, he held onto it without ever opening it." He shrugged helplessly, as his nerves ran out. "I finally opened it after Doctor Balam drew my blood for Babel's records."

(And suddenly Iruma's behavior that one evening clicked for Sullivan, as he immediately cataloged random odd informant requests that Alice had been fulfilling for the Young Boss. Scattered as they were, they were small things that the ex-officer had been compiling for one unknown reason or another.

Now the Don had a solid picture.

Iruma knew things. He'd held back details about himself, and was secretly investigating the people who had abandoned him to the slums.)

When Iruma next glanced up at Opera, he took in how utterly pale they were, and took a step back in unease as he brought his other hand to press against his chest. He held back the tears and emotion that wanted to spill out of him, as he felt deep-rooted shame at the fact of his existence.

He loved them so so much, and he was the direct result of their most traumatic pain.

Sullivan took that moment to intervene, by simply stepping between them, before guiding Opera out of Iruma's room and closing the door behind them.

Iruma's ears strained as they walked down the hall and out of range, before he slumped into a crouch to hug his knees as he buried his face into them.

xXx-xXx-blueblood-xXx-xXx

Sullivan settled Opera into one of the couches in his office before sitting across from the rattled bodyguard.

He allowed them a moment of silence before leaning forward to rest his elbows upon his knees. "Opera." The bodyguard met his eyes immediately and he continued. "Talk."

Opera inhaled sharply and for a moment they couldn't breathe, they then took in three short panicked breaths before forcing themself to exhale and calm down. They took one more measured inhale before speaking. "When I was thirteen or fourteen I must have beaten up the wrong asshole, because one cold ass rainy evening I found myself surrounded by a bunch of paid goons, and a grinning shadowy client behind them."

Opera was incapable of avoiding The Don's eyes. He might have been the person who had allowed them the merciful grace of being Iruma's bodyguard, but they knew damn well their life was forfeit the moment even a sweat drop of betrayal slipped out to slit their throat.

They swallowed before continuing, "I thought I'd beaten every last one of them, until I was grabbed from behind while a piece of cloth smothered my face. I don't know all of what was done to me while unconscious… but when I came to, I was dumped in a back alley-" They cut themself off there as their throat closed and tears of shameful rage burned their eyes.

Sullivan's eyes softened for a moment as he pulled himself back, to allow Opera the moment they needed to continue, as he filled in the blanks.

Opera scrubbed harshly at their face for a moment as they recollected their thoughts, before stubbornly matching his gaze once more. "I hadn't realized what had been done to me- stubbornly refused the thought, until weeks later I realized something was wrong with my body. I traveled two towns over to be looked at by the only underground doctor who gave a damn about penniless street rats, and that's when I found out that I was pregnant."

Opera couldn't help but bury their face into their hands in slumped defeat as they croaked. "...I was given my options, and I chose a women's shelter, despite the underlying thought that I could be giving myself over for trafficking." They took in a shuddered breath as they fought against their emotions, "Those were the most stable months of my young life up until that point."

The Catshie Women's Shelter had taken them in, washed and clothed them, and cared for them during those terrifying months as their body changed and grew in ways that only caused them distress.

Yet, the other women around them had helped them in every way that they could and raised them. They'd felt the genuine care of family, and when their labor pains had started, they'd stayed close to their side and encouraged them through the terrifying pain of it all.

However, as the days passed, and their baby- Coda's appetite refused to subside, they realized that their body simply wasn't producing the milk he needed to live. It was then that they gave up any hope of being any good as a parent to him, and after discussing it with the shelter, it was decided that the best course of action would be to surrender the infant to the local authorities.

Opera pulled themself together so that they could finish their story. "After I gave birth, when I realized that it was impossible for me to raise him, I chose to surrender my baby to the Police. With help, I swaddled him warmly, placed him in a basket, and tucked an envelope within the layers when one of the Shelter's workers handed it to me. After I set down that basket, I fled to a back alley just at the edge of sight, and didn't leave until he was taken inside."

Sullivan was silent for a long moment before speaking, "And that was the end of it?" Opera nodded, and Sullivan exhaled tiredly as he leaned back into the couch in thought. His voice was gentle as he spoke. "Opera." They met his eyes, "You did your best."

Opera blinked as confusion swept through them at his words, before they hid behind their hands with a stifled sob.

They'd truly done their best.

xXx-xXx-redblood-xXx-xXx

Iruma felt wrung out, as he sat listlessly on the side of his bed, next to the nightstand with the envelope that had haunted him for the better part of ten years.

Iruma slid tear-tired eyes towards the drawer, before loosely reaching over and sliding the drawer open. He then plucked out the envelope, and cautiously fiddled with it between digits in his lap, as he contemplated how it had changed his life.

A small piece of paper and a handwritten message had changed everything.

He took in a deep breath as his stomach growled, to let him know that it was well past time to eat, and sighed in annoyance.

He was brooding, why did his stomach have to be on a precise timer? Why did he have to eat so damn much all of the time?

Iruma sniffed, rubbed at one of his eyes, and slipped out the piece of paper.

Coda

The name his mother- the name Opera had chosen for him… was Coda.

He went to press his knuckle against his forehead, to fight off a growing headache, when the door slammed open and startled him.

Red flickered from blue as Opera's gaze narrowed in on the piece of parchment in his hand. "-Uh!" Iruma went to put it away, before Opera raised a hand in wait.

Iruma stilled, and after a moment's hesitation, Opera moved over to his side, plopped down next to him so that their side touched, and plucked the paper from his fingers.

Opera stared at the side with his name, before flipping it to the back.

Iruma waited with baited breath as they read the short letter that had been written with them in mind, and eventually huffed tiredly. They handed it back to him, and he put it away for safekeeping before gripping his hands stiffly in his lap.

Opera took a long moment to align their thoughts before blurting, "I don't hate you."

Iruma blinked before looking up at them.

Opera simply stared ahead for a moment before shifting their gaze to meet his questioning eyes as they clarified softly. "I never once thought-" They huffed before flopping back onto his bed listlessly. "It's not your fault, Iruma."

It wasn't the most comfortable position, but Iruma cautiously laid back beside them as he looked up to them, "...It's not?"

Opera shifted, before pulling him into their hold and wrapping themself around him in an awkward, but reassuring, hug. Iruma shifted with them, before burying his face into the crook of their neck and closed his eyes. His voice was soft, "...Still. I'm sorry."

Opera placed a hand on his head and slowly ran their clawed gloves through his blue strands with care, "What is there for you to be sorry for?"

Iruma breathed in deeply and spoke with a sigh, "For saying anything… and springing this on you. I've… had time to think about it, and… I kept it a secret from you."

Opera was quiet for a moment before grumbling, "Iruma, I've kept my own secrets from you for the sake of both of our sanities. You're my little brother, the person I care about most in the entire world. Finding out that you're the son I abandoned as a teenager-"

Iruma sprung up, surprising the both of them before he forced himself to be as unthreatening as possible. "But! You didn't abandon me! Not like that fucker who hurt you!"

Opera stared up at him in surprise of both his conviction and language. Iruma blushed deeply from his words, but he refused to let Opera feel bad about themself! "Opera! You raised me, all without either of us knowing that we were parent and child! You might've always been like an older sibling to me, but you've also been my parent! No one can take your place!"

Opera wanted to deny his words, but they just didn't have the energy to fight him, because it was true.

They had raised him. Sure, others had played their parts, but they had been raised within Babel together.

Opera lifted their arm, and Iruma was quick to take their invitation as he buried himself into their hold. Between the two of them, neither knew who started sobbing first, but both of them were an absolutely snotty mess by the time Sullivan crept in with a box of tissues while dabbing at his eyes.

They were reunited in all of the ways that counted, and they would figure things out from then on.

xXx-xXx-redblood-xXx-xXx

A/N: And that's how the story ends. I've had a difficult time IRL, as I am currently unemployed and spending a majority of my time and energy job hunting. The sooner I can get a job and stop being stressed out, the more time I'll be able to devote to creativity again.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the story, and I'd greatly appreciate a review.