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He was cold. Or, in a more logical sense, distant - uncaring, maybe rude would be a better word. He wasn't good, wasn't a hero by any means. Though, villainous wasn't the right word. He might have not been the best person, but he wouldn't have considered himself a villain. He had this cold exterior to him that made him seem villainous- his actions fed into that belief. But he wasn't a villain.

Like a statue.
Statues were cold and mysterious, people often feared them. The gritty stone seemed to watch, seemed to hold life of it's own. Statues observed. They waited.
But, statues were fragile; they often broke. The stone surface would crack under pressure or force. Just like him. Except, however, unlike with statues, there was no one to fix him. Not anymore.

He did his best to ignore it - the slow breaking he felt in his heart - as he heard over the scouter what had happened. As he listened to the struggled breathing, those dying breaths. The life seeping away from the man he never got to say goodbye to.
That was the second time his cold surface had cracked, the first being when he got the news that their home planet had been destroyed and that he - along with the other two - were the only remaining saiyans left alive.
He only lost hope further as they had closed in on Earth. Immortality sounded sour when he knew he wouldn't be with the person he had waited for. With the person he loved.

He pushed it away. Pushed away the thoughts, the feelings- hoping that they would disappear. And, even if that seemed like the case, it never truly went away. It lingered in the back of his mind at all times. He shouldn't have been so careless when he said to go, shouldn't have been so cold-hearted.
He destroyed to distract himself, avoiding the problems.

Time passed, waiting. 3 hours was running out, he could see the hope fading from the opponents. But they never truly let go, never gave up.
Blood had already stained the battlefield, just as it had time and time again on every planet he had traveled to. That was the natural course of events. He had expected it to be the same every time; this time was no exception.
That was his downfall. He didn't think that they had a chance, and as he was humiliated by someone who was supposed to be weak he saw that.
This was the third time is stone-like exterior had cracked. The sickening realization had struck him then, as it did now.

It all lead up to here and now. The light blindingly bright as his body was burned to dust, pain seeping through his every vein. His vision white before it faded to black. Then everything was gone.

This was how he died, wasn't it?
He thought about everything that had lead him to this moment. Loss, gain, destruction. All placed in the perfect order to put his life at an end here. This wasn't a fitting death, even if it made sense- it wasn't right. Wasn't honourable.
It was like painting over something that you had spent a lifetime on, or spilling ink onto an empty page.

Like blood on a statue surface. The memory would stain his skin, haunting him even after death.

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The numbness stopped as cold rushed over him.
There was a sudden light, yet it wasn't natural. It was wrong, but right at the same time.
He was dead, he knew that much. Which meant that this was the afterlife- or, in the more likely case, hell.
The ground beneath him was a dusty yellow, the world around looked barren. Desert, even.

"Nappa?" A voice spoke. Familiar and sweet, recognizable without a second thought.

He turned to the sound, "Raditz?"

"It's really you." The long-haired man stated, not quite shocked yet not quite knowing.

"Yeah, it's me." He nodded.

"I thought the Earthlings wouldn't stand a chance against you."

"I thought so too." He sighed, looking down. Then he smiled. "But I'm glad that wasn't the case."

"Why's that?" Raditz asked.

"Because now I get to see you." Nappa replied.

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