Don't Forget to Smell the Blossoms
"No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it's not the same river and he's not the same man."-Heraclitus
It was a humid summer dawn, one already hot even through the veil of morning twilight. The sun cheerily peeked up from the shimmering ocean depths, making daunting promises of even greater heat to come. Scampering across the island when most were just beginning to stir was a boy, a carton of milk taunting him from his hands, and a turtle shell burdening his back. Young Goku squinted through the sweat that damped his hair and slicked his brow, into the rising sun.
Of all his training with Master Roshi, it was not the barehanded digging of fields, or swimming against sharks that was the greatest challenge. No, the hardest part of the turtle hermit's training was this very first milk delivery; a gentle path leading through the sweetly scented island groves. It was the fact that it was the beginning of a seemingly endless path, slanted and made rocky with the sun's promise that all the day lye ahead.
Goku was two things right then. First, he was pain; the burning of legs as they fought the ground, the crisping of lungs as they grasped for air. Secondly, he was determination, the iron will that drove his steps through agony and endless seconds, to win the World Martial Arts Tournament. That was all there was for the young fighter; The never ending path of the agonizing now, and the tournament so far into the future.
A bell of remembrance rang out against this most harsh music of Goku's conscious. He stopped dead in his tracks, confronted only by birdsong and his own ragged breathing. Goku had managed to run a little ways ahead, leaving Krillin tailed by a nagging Master Roshi behind. With one glance to make sure they were not too close, Goku stepped off the path.
He came to stand at the roots of a very distinct looking cherry tree, one that seemed to be made of two different parts merged together. It was almost as if the two jutting heads coming out of the twisted stalk were competing with each other, and the very fervor with which they tried to outdo the other put them into almost perfect symmetry.
"Hey, I remember you." Goku smiled, patting the tree as if it were an old friend. He remembered seeing the cherry tree the very first day of training on the island, briefly recalled its distinct form jutting into his attention as it had just now. He had vowed to return to the sweet smelling cherry tree to sit in its shade when he had time, a commodity he was unable to find under the Turtle Hermit's training.
"Wait, something's different." Goku said, taking a step back to fully examine the cherry tree. Still in a light haze from exercise, it took Goku a second to fully remember. Its bizarre shape was as he remembered, but now there were broad green leaves catching the sun's rays, not the delicate white blossoms he recalled.
Goku grimaced at the tree. He did not think he liked these broad leaves of summer, or the little green cherries, too hard and bitter for eating. Did spring and the blossoms really leave so soon?
"Well, I guess I'll just have to come back next time." Goku said, turning back to the path and his early morning training. His own words gave him reason to stop however. Next time? As in when spring and blossoms should come again? But the tournament was in a few months, in the fall. Time for Goku began in the morning with milk delivery and ended somewhere infinitely far in the future when he won the championship belt. Could there be…something after?
Goku perked his ears for the telltale clod of Krillin and Master Roshi's steps; when they did not come, he set down the milk carton and sat in the cherry tree's shade, like he had promised. There were no sweet smelling blossoms, but the greedy leaves kept the rising sun's glare off of him at least.
Where would Goku be when the blossoms came again? Still on the island he guessed, Master Roshi hadn't even begun teaching his advanced martial arts moves yet. But where would he be in the spring after that?
"I'll probably be waving hi to you as I deliver milk until I'm as old as Master Roshi." Goku confided in the cherry tree, worming his fingers through cool grass. "Maybe then he'll finally start teaching me some real fighting techniques." he giggled.
But where would he go when he learned everything Master Roshi had to teach? What would he do if he won the World Martial Arts Tournament and was deemed the greatest fighter? What if Master Roshi decided to move to a different island, and Goku never got to sit under the cherry tree in blossom?
Goku sighed, and rubbed at a soreness in his thigh. Once there had been softness there, a small reserve of baby fat that refused to leave with years. It was a sensitive spot, Grandpa Gohan had pinched him there sometimes and would laugh at Goku's yelps. Now, there was only hard muscle that a crab would find challenging to get a hold of.
Goku leaned against the trunk, spending his last few moments in a tired daze. A refreshing breeze rolled past his face; Goku could almost see falling Cherry Blossoms floating by on that gentle wind. He delicately reached out for the cherry blossoms and tried to catch a few, though he never quite got one. He only wanted to hold one, to smell it delicately cradled in his hands, before releasing it back to the air.
"Come on Krillin! Hurry up or I'll make that T-Rex's bite seem playful!" threatened Master Roshi. Goku was up like he were struck by a whip. Imaginary blossoms disappeared as he grabbed his milk carton and sprinted back out onto the path. Goku wondered one last thing before his thoughts were consumed by burning legs and rasping breath; Just how long would the endless path go on?