Kendo Club
                                  N.A.Sinclir.
                                 seraphim@sentex.net
                                 cm784@torfree.net

<snip fic>

 Later as Kuno dressed and Hiroshi lay sobbing upon the floor
the boy realized with a sudden terrible clairity that he was
wearing the same scent that he had worn a year ago.

Oh.... Neil, this is the kind of tale that can make me wonder if there 
is such a thing as being TOO good a writer....  I throw it into my 
mental category of "train wreck" fics--you know what's happening, you 
know what's going to happen, and you are utterly repulsed by it... but 
you can't look away.

Well-conceived and well-executed, even if it does make Kuno into an 
utterly unsympathetic figure.

--Freemage
   Hey! I know it's late, alright?  I'm trying here....

Afterward.

I originally had all of this at the beginning but I said "what the 

hell"

as it would have possibly spoiled things....

Definitely.  You made the right call.

Background:  I was reading about initiations and also talking about a
certain psychological factor which shows up in warrior societies
(and prisons)  "hyper-masculinity."
 It's not my brain it's that damned weekend rental.
 The warranty must have lapsed.
 Actually it's only a little lemon... or rather I guess it more lime.

                  Please don't shoot me
  
                                               Neil.

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