Kaizen [Yoshiya's Training]
Dec 27, 2013 6:23:31 GMT -8
Post by Deleted on Dec 27, 2013 6:23:31 GMT -8
Repetition of an action is key to its mastery. Though one must maintain discipline to one's craft, for failure to commit to regular practise will cause a degradation in abilities. Sometimes a complete overhaul is necessary, but often the better way to proceed is by continual small improvements in the process of fulfilling a task. And how better to improve than by repetition, for not only does it breed mastery, but one may find ways to make small changes to the act in order to further its potency.
All throughout the civilised world lay a thick blanket of snow, coating the streets in layers of its thick, white mass. But all through the many roads and paths of the Rukongai there was little joy to be found. Rather than children playing in the frost, families mourned their passing. Food was scarce this year. Many had died in the attack further at the start of the year, but the death toll was still rising, for the beasts had not taken consideration to spare the crops.
Yoshiya was fine. Being a farmer, he saw the incoming famine. Being a saver, he could afford the inflated food prices, though he himself had cut down on consumption. And so as he worked, a rumble emanated from his empty stomach. But it had to be done, the snow had to be shovelled.
Bent over, his shovel slid into the frost, taking a large scoop of the snow and flinging it to a place where it would cause less disruption. Again. In. Up. Over. Step. In. Up. Over. Step. In. Up. Over. Step.
He worked this way, his breath condensing on the air, a visible mist apparent from his mouth and nostrils as he grunted through his labours.
In. Up. Over. Step.
When Yoshiya came to parts more frozen, he spun his staff, smashing the frozen ground with half a dozen spikes, tearing them asunder lest one slip upon them.
And then it was back to shovelling. Repetition and improvement. Familiarity with his staff.
In.
Up.
Over.
Step.
All throughout the civilised world lay a thick blanket of snow, coating the streets in layers of its thick, white mass. But all through the many roads and paths of the Rukongai there was little joy to be found. Rather than children playing in the frost, families mourned their passing. Food was scarce this year. Many had died in the attack further at the start of the year, but the death toll was still rising, for the beasts had not taken consideration to spare the crops.
Yoshiya was fine. Being a farmer, he saw the incoming famine. Being a saver, he could afford the inflated food prices, though he himself had cut down on consumption. And so as he worked, a rumble emanated from his empty stomach. But it had to be done, the snow had to be shovelled.
Bent over, his shovel slid into the frost, taking a large scoop of the snow and flinging it to a place where it would cause less disruption. Again. In. Up. Over. Step. In. Up. Over. Step. In. Up. Over. Step.
He worked this way, his breath condensing on the air, a visible mist apparent from his mouth and nostrils as he grunted through his labours.
In. Up. Over. Step.
When Yoshiya came to parts more frozen, he spun his staff, smashing the frozen ground with half a dozen spikes, tearing them asunder lest one slip upon them.
And then it was back to shovelling. Repetition and improvement. Familiarity with his staff.
In.
Up.
Over.
Step.
