Little Red Ashura

Little Red Ashura-ou by Kitty and illustrated by Kamen

(A not very PC, Kitty mutilates a classic type of story)

There once was a uke (by choice) named Little Red Ashura-ou who lived in the suburbs of Manhattan. Ashura had earned his nickname from a little red hood-cape he fancied and often wore, although he sometimes resented that a piece of clothing was what most people recalled about him. Ashura did not mind too much. He had high self-esteem and comfortable with his image.

Ashura was raised in a dysfunctional family unit which bore only one patriarch. Ashura wasn't too concerned that he did not have the luxury of having a nuclear family like his colleagues and acquaintances. He understood that a person can fall out of love with another person and they are meant to be lifetime partners with someone else.

"Especially when their ex-lifetime partner was caught on top of his secretary drilling for oil on VHS," Ashura's provider and/or guardian informed him.

Ashura didn't understand that statement. He had seen the incriminating video that had been pivotal for the court award in divorce settlements. There weren't any oil rigging implements he could see in his father's office. It must be later in the tape, Ashura concluded, but he did not want to finish the religious cassette. It bored him. The persons in the tape seemed to be doing the same thing over and over again while calling out to God. Ashura was a nihilist.

One day, Ashura's provider called out to him after he finished reading a lengthy e-mail from his uncle.

"Ashura, please fetch your little red cape with hood. I've prepared you a basket to take to your conveniently ill (for the story) uncle that lives in the city."

"But are you not enforcing the feminine image of a uke by having me to do what could be construed as a female role?"

Ashura's provider draped the little red cape with hood around Ashura's shoulders and laced it securely as he explained that carrying a picnic basket on his arm through a drug and prostitute infested city while wearing a suggestive red wrap is really gender neutral.

"After all," his provider said with a soft smile. "This is New York."

Ashura nodded as he retrieved the prepared basket from the kitchen counter. Ashura was comfortable with his feminine side at any rate and was in the least afraid to show it. Besides, his healthy self-image assured him in his mind that he's rather cute in the little red cape-hood. Of course, he wouldn't really wear the hood. It would ruin his hair.

Ashura embraced his provider as an affectionate sign of 'good-bye' and set off on his way. Ashura knew all about the urban myths of how wretched New York City was and how mean and abrasive New Yorkers were. Lies, Ashura's provider told him one time as they watched another Hardcopy special on NYC. All lies begotten and spread by media who need controversy to feed its stories to sell the papers and airtime.

"Then why do so many people think it's true?" Ashura asked, as they watched several New York's Finest cordon off a homicide scene with yellow tapes that read "Police: Do not cross" on TV.

"Because it is more fashionable to follow stereotypical points of views and agree with the masses and unless you are popular enough to be different, you will be ostracized and made fun of."

Ashura knew he was popular (his many boyfriends in school assured him) so he didn't have the irrational fear of the foreboding city like most of his suburban friends did. Oh Ashura knew there would be criminals and deviants galore in the city but he didn't mind. New York, after all, is a melting pot of personalities. Ashura was eager to embark on his voyage through streets of New York City on foot, to his beloved uncle's apartment in lower Manhattan.

On the way to his uncle's apartment, Ashura passed by many men who smiled at him. Some even followed him for blocks. Ashura also noticed that many cars that drove by honked their horns excessively or whistled and shouted something incomprehensible to him. Ashura waved back and winked at these receptive men with peculiar methods of greeting. Ashura was raised with good manners and his provider always advised, "It doesn't hurt to be nice." It didn't hurt at all. As matter of fact, Ashura's rays of sunshine often paid for his lunches and dinners and got him many unsolicited gifts.

Then a limo started to follow Ashura, slowing down to Ashura's leisure pace. It pulled slightly ahead of him and parked along the curb. As Ashura was passing the black limo, the tinted window in the back lowered electronically.

"Hello dear," someone said to Ashura.

Ashura stopped by the open car window and leaned down to look at the speaker--a prim older man with a nice gray Armani suit smiled at him.

"Do you need a ride, darling?"

Personally, Ashura found terms of endearment coming from strangers sexually offending but since the older man reminded him of his own deceased grandfather, he thought it was okay.

"No thank you," Ashura replied politely.

"But it's not safe for a pretty little thing like you to walk through the city by yourself," the older man stressed.

"Oh everyone's so nice here," Ashura beamed.

"But I insist," the older man said. The passenger door at the head of the limo opened and a tall man in a black three-piece suit stepped out. He came to Ashura and opened the car door for him.

"Well..." Ashura said, contemplating the maroon velvet seats inside.

"Tentai insists," the tall grim man said to Ashura. Ashura learned the older man's name.

Ashura had never been inside a limousine this big before. It would be interesting, he concluded and so he climbed in. Tentai seemed to be very pleased that he joined him. Ashura was glad to see he made someone's day.

"Where are we going?" Ashura asked, as the limo pulled into the busy city traffic again.

"My penthouse," Tentai said as he put his ring-adorned right hand on Ashura's knee and squeezed it lightly. "I have some toys you can play with."

Ashura was too distracted by the passing city seen through the dark windows to notice Tentai's busy hand. 'Is this what the city looks like at night?' He wondered.

"What's your name, sweetheart?"

"Ashura," Ashura said, finally looking back at the older man. "I can't stay with you for too long since I'm on my way to visit my ill uncle in lower Manhattan."

"Oh, we can be done in a couple of hours...if you can take it for that long."

"Take what?" Ashura wanted to ask but he didn't want to appear ignorant. He grinned and pretended to know what Tentai was referring to.

"How would you like to live with me?" Tentai suddenly offered him. "I can buy you anything you want, anytime. All you have to do wear pretty lingerie and take care of my needs whenever I ask for it."

"Are you offering me a job?" Ashura asked, baffled how this man could assess his abilities even without a resume.

"You can say that."

"Hmmm...." Ashura pondered, "what will I be doing exactly?"

"Let's just say that when you're not riding in the limo or the private jet, you'll be riding me."

'What a strange man,' Ashura thought to himself. The last time Ashura rode on the back of an elder man was when he was two.

"I'll hurt your back." Ashura pointed out.

"Trust me, you can't hurt me but you'll be hurting for days after I'm done with you."

Ashura frowned. Was this man planning to play bronco instead? And hurl him down the stairs?

"Of course, I can be generous. I am also very orally gifted, if you know what I mean," Tentai said, and licked his upper lip.

Ashura smiled and thought, 'What a talented man. He can sing too!'

"..for hours." Tentai added.

Ashura was impressed. When Ashura thought to ask Tentai to exercise a sample of his talent, they had arrived at a hotel called Waldorf-Astoria. Their vehicle pulled up behind several parked limousines and exotic cars.

"Here we are," Tentai said warmly.

The tall grim man up front came to open the doors for them again. Just as Ashura stepped out with his basket, a man with long silver hair walked up to them as he tossed the half-smoked cigarette into the lawn. His pale eyes narrowed as he watched Tentai step out of the limo. The stranger with bad litter habit didn't look friendly.

"What do you want Taishaku?" Tentai said, obviously he knew the man with long silver hair.

"Where d' you pick up the twinkie?" The silver-haired man called Taishaku asked.

"I'm not a twinkie." Ashura interjected.

"Listen sweetheart, you don't want to get mixed up with this character," Taishaku said as he took Ashura's wrist and pulled him away from Tentai's side. "Let me take you home."

"I'm not going home."

"Soliciting sex from runaways violates the terms of your parole," Taishaku said to Tentai.

Ashura was confused but he knew Tentai was angry. He didn't like to be around angry people.

"Go sit in my car and wait for me." Taishaku said to Ashura as he pointed at a shiny red Porsche 911. Ashura did as he was told. Taishaku looked and sounded like an authority figure. Ashura was taught never to backtalk authority.

Ashura sat in the very comfortable leather bucket seat as he watched Taishaku speak with Tentai. They conversed rather loudly for awhile before Tentai returned to the limo and drove away. Ashura was a little disappointed. He would have liked to play with Tentai's collection of toys.

"I would like to leave now please." Ashura said as soon as Taishaku got in the Porsche.

"What were you doing with that man?" Taishaku asked, ignoring Ashura's request.

Ashura shrugged.

Taishaku reached into his jacket and pulled out a black wallet. He unfolded it and revealed to him a gold police shield as he explained that he was Tentai's parole officer. So Tentai was not a gentle old man Ashura thought him to be. Taishaku further detailed Tentai's past misdeeds that earned him a parole officer. Apparently Tentai was a repeat sex offender.

"He bought his freedom with his dirty money and he's still running around the city, preying on innocent ukes like yourself."

"I see," Ashura said. Frankly, Ashura didn't care. He was remembering that he still had to go see his ill uncle and deliver the packed basket to him.

"May I leave now? I would like to go see my uncle."

Taishaku shook his head.

"It's not safe for you. Tentai is very determined."

"But I want to go see my uncle..." Ashura wailed.

"How about if I drive you there?"

Ashura considered the kind offer from such a studly handsome man with an expensive German sports car and masculine profession. But he declined.

"I'd like to walk. It's such a nice day."

Ashura let himself out and waved good-bye to the police officer. Although Taishaku protested, he didn't stop Ashura from leaving. It would be false imprisonment.

Meanwhile, Tentai, as Taishaku predicated, wanted Ashura. He remembered Ashura's destination as per their short conversation in the limo and proceeded down to lower Manhattan. With little effort (for sake of expediting the story), he found where Ashura's uncle lived. Tentai then forced his way into the small, poorly decorated studio apartment and locked the uncle in the basement. He dismissed his hired help and limo and tucked himself in the uncle's bed, waiting for Ashura's arrival eagerly.

Ashura finally sauntered up to the block where his uncle lived. He was quite proud of himself for resisting to look at the lavish window decorations of the expensive stores he passed by. Ashura did not realize that he was being followed by Taishaku, who found himself extremely attracted to Ashura from the first sight. Of course, Taishaku can not admit to it out loud. It would ruin his image as the stolid seme.

Ashura knocked on his uncle's apartment door several times and peered through the ajar front door. He made a mental note to scold his uncle for leaving the door open in such an unsafe neighborhood.

"Uncle?" Ashura asked as he removed the little red cape-hood.

"In here my dear."

Uncle sounded different, Ashura observed. It must be the illness.

Ashura walked into the dimly lit bedroom where the uncle laid.

"Don't turn on the light. My eyes are still light-sensitive," his uncle said to him as Ashura was reaching to flip the switch. "Do come closer so I can see you better."

Ashura walked up to the bed side and sat down. He thought he saw his uncle smile wickedly up at him.

"Uncle, I've brought you a basket that my suburban guardian had sent me to give you." Ashura took his uncle's hand into his.

"You're sweet, dear Ashura. Come, lie down and rest your head against my chest."

Ashura did and suddenly noticed, "Uncle, your chest's much broader than I remembered."

"So you can hear my heart beating affectionately for your presence better, love."

Ashura looked up into his uncle's shadow shrouded face and suddenly noticed, "Uncle, your eyes are bigger than I remembered."

"So I can see just how beautiful you've become over the years better, love."

Ashura shifted himself slightly and suddenly felt something pressing against his belly.

"Uncle...?"

Tentai couldn't take it anymore. He sprung up, grabbed the startled Ashura by his shoulders and pinned him to the bed.

"Let me show you something that's going to be the biggest thing you'll ever remember." Tentai said as he ripped open Ashura's shirt. Ashura was not pleased to have his favorite outfit ruined but he knew what he has to do.

"No...stop...please..." Ashura recalled from his required reading from Uke's Etiquette Handbook. Ashura even managed to shed a couple of tears. "No...I don't want to...it hurts..."

"But I didn't do anything yet."

Taishaku, meanwhile, stood a few houses away from where he watched Ashura go into his uncle's apartment. He leaned up against the metallic light pole and lit up another cigarette. He couldn't stop thinking about Ashura and his pretty golden eyes and the silky raven hair. Taishaku sighed and was considering to scan for Ashura's home address and other personal information in the DMV and NYSPIN (New York State Police Information Network) files when he caught a glimpse of a familiar sight. Upon a closer look, he realized that it was Tentai's limo doubled parked in the fire zone. That could only mean one thing...

Taishaku stormed into the apartment, hearing Ashura's cries upon entry--he quickly ran into the bedroom where he saw Tentai on top of teary-eyed Ashura. While cursing like a sailor, Taishaku drew the 9 mm Beretta from the shoulder holster hidden in his jacket and shot Tentai in the head.

Ashura pushed Tentai's body off him and looked at the blood stained wall and sheets.

"My uncle's gonna kill me..." Ashura muttered. "You know how hard it is to get the blood stain out of cotton?"

Taishaku came up to Ashura and swept him up in his arms, carried him into the living room and set him down on the couch.