In my household, as a child, I was often forced to learn from watching. My father, Master Lito, was, of course, the only known man who practiced the Hiten Style. He invented it. He had more duties than raising Zelos and myself, however. As an Elder of Ionia, he was not always at home. When he was, he often trained Zelos out of necessity. Zelos could train me, and I could practice on my own time.
Though, as I aged, father often did take more and more time to teach me. It was a matter of not putting all his eggs in one basket-- I feel he knew he would meet an untimely demise.
Training was arduous. Father was not lenient and would discipline me or Zelos for even the slightest missteps. I would wake up in the mornings bruised and sore and still tired, but with a fire lit within me to keep trying. The Hiten style was not a simple art, and father had high hopes to drill the harshness of the style into us.
To become one with your weapon, you must understand everything about not only yourself, but the weapon you wield. You must have memorized every aspect of it, down to its origin and its breath. Truly practicing the Hiten means awakening the life of your weapon-- it is no simple task.
But now... I am by no means a master. I'm sure father would laugh and consider me some kind of cheater-- after all, Soraka bound my soul to my blades, creating an instant link between me and them. Though they do not always accept me as their true master (my father was the one who awakened them, after all), they accept me as the heir. They are patient, though often crabby with my mistakes.
They are my current teachers. In some ways, they are harsher than father ever was.
Even if they wanted to, the blades could never disobey me. They contain my soul, and therefore only commit the acts I allow them to commit, conscious or not. That does not mean they cannot give me very harsh criticism, they are quite quick to do so and it is much welcomed.
I do hope one day I can make father's spirit proud by mastering the art he spent so long creating.
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