Categories > Anime/Manga > Ouran High School Host Club > Miscellaneous Ouran Shortfic
Yasuchika knows Satoshi would whack him on the head with that nasty shinai for ever admitting this, but every time he wanders into the school doujo, he wonders what the point of a karate club is even supposed to be. He is the captain, true, but that's only by default--he is also the best of any of them, by so far a margin that it's ridiculous.
Most of the guys in his club take instruction outside school, but none of them train to the extent he does. Chika learned his first kata along with his first walking steps. He has practiced every day of his life since, save for five days (and he remembers them) when he was too sick to leave the bed, and even then someone had to keep him there.
He is up every day before dawn practicing, and every night after homework, regardless of the day's other activities, he puts in another two hours. By age seven he had learned all the forms and levels of traditional karate, and most of those of the Haninozuka school. Of course he hasn't perfected them all, that's the work of a lifetime, and as it should be.
But the other guys in the club don't see it that way. They learn a form to a merely acceptable standard, and seem to think that's a big deal. One of them wins in a tournament, or advances to the next belt, and everyone acts like it's momentous. But Chika knows it is so, so much more than that. He knows that the point is to strive, continually for absolute perfection, and when his form falters in the sudden sweep of his brother's attacks, Chika remembers he still has a long, long way to go.
He cannot afford to let up, or waste one single moment, because perfection is so far ahead of him and demands his constant, diligent pursuit. But no one in the club seems to get this. They call him a harsh captain, but they don't seem to get that the harshest master of all is the art itself, forever looking down on you and demanding you rise up to meet it.
Most of the guys in his club take instruction outside school, but none of them train to the extent he does. Chika learned his first kata along with his first walking steps. He has practiced every day of his life since, save for five days (and he remembers them) when he was too sick to leave the bed, and even then someone had to keep him there.
He is up every day before dawn practicing, and every night after homework, regardless of the day's other activities, he puts in another two hours. By age seven he had learned all the forms and levels of traditional karate, and most of those of the Haninozuka school. Of course he hasn't perfected them all, that's the work of a lifetime, and as it should be.
But the other guys in the club don't see it that way. They learn a form to a merely acceptable standard, and seem to think that's a big deal. One of them wins in a tournament, or advances to the next belt, and everyone acts like it's momentous. But Chika knows it is so, so much more than that. He knows that the point is to strive, continually for absolute perfection, and when his form falters in the sudden sweep of his brother's attacks, Chika remembers he still has a long, long way to go.
He cannot afford to let up, or waste one single moment, because perfection is so far ahead of him and demands his constant, diligent pursuit. But no one in the club seems to get this. They call him a harsh captain, but they don't seem to get that the harshest master of all is the art itself, forever looking down on you and demanding you rise up to meet it.
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