Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Mafia ❯ Volume Nine, Chapter Thirty-Five: Cold Summer ( Chapter 35 )

Who was Nikkita Popova? Who was he really? He came from Moscow. Born on July fourteenth in 1957, Nikkita grew up poor. He and his mother lived in a small one-bedroom apartment in the city. His father was never in the picture. There were rumors. Oh the rumors. His mother knew. But little Nikkita didn't need to know the truth. She did her best to shield him from the world. But she could do so much.

Nikkita had a fairly normal childhood. Well, normal as possible in Soviet Russia. His mother worked at an underground bar. She was a bartender at the time. She was quite popular too. Still, as the clich� went, life was hard.

At age twelve, Nikkita went to Japan with his mother. She met a man one night. He came from China. At least that is what he said. He looked like a rich man. Always dressed nice. White suits, slicked back black hair, gold teeth, gold chains, gold rings, and a fedora. He stood out. But he never got robbed or killed. Nikkita couldn't figure him out. Who was this man? Part of him didn't really like this guy.

The man and Nikkita's mother started dating shortly after meeting. Two months later, they moved to Japan. The man promised Nikkita's mother a better life. You can guess what happened next. To make a long story short, the love died and mother and son were stranded in Japan.

By the time Nikkita was fourteen, he had to fend for himself and his mother. They had been living illegally in Japan for two years. He had to be the man of the house. By now, his mother was disillusioned.

Nikkita was quick to learn how to fight. He was quite the bruiser. His mother prayed he wouldn't get arrested. They couldn't afford to get deported. But she didn't need to worry.

Her son knew how to survive. Nikkita was a clever boy. From an early age, he knew how to read and write. He was also good with numbers. Because of this, the boy ran card game scams. He was quite good at it too. So much so that it caught the attention of the yakuza.

A couple of the thugs found him on Christmas Day 1972. He was walking home that night. His mother had just gotten fired. (Well, “fired” is a nice way to put it. Let's just leave it at that.) Nikkita decided to try and cheer her up with a present. (No, he didn't steal it. He wasn't an idiot. The boy bought it with the money he “earned”.) He was walking home when a black car pulled up beside him. Of course, he noticed. Don't run. Don't run. Act normal. Act normal. The boy kept walking.

Four, no, five blocks. What were they doing? Finally, the car stopped.

“Kid!” a man shouted. Nikkita froze.

“Yeah?” he asked. He didn't turn around. Silence. Nikkita didn't move. I'm screwed, aren't I? A pair of big hands grabbed him but the shoulders. He tried to fight them off. Nikkita tried to scream, but one hand covered his mouth. They dragged him into the car and drove off.

He ended up recruited into the Yazuka. Nikkita didn't have a choice. Either that or die. He chose to live. Turns out, Nikkita found his calling. He was really good. It didn't take long for him to reach the top. He had to be cold to survive. He made allies and enemies along the way. He became a hero to the small Russian community in Japan. He gave them a voice. They loved and feared him.

And then, he fell in love.

Cold Summer