I never gave much thought to my death, but I assumed it would be in battle again, just like my first time against Radditz all those years ago. I imagined I would occur amidst the cries of war, my every sense magnified by the sheer excitement of it all. I never thought I would go in silence. And I definitely never thought I would die from being sick. But I did.
My friends called me their greatest hero, yet I couldn't defeat the silent killer who had somehow gotten inside of me. My death was long and painful and when it was finally my time I was ready to go. I had long accepted my fate before anyone else and I welcomed the release from my pain with open arms.
I spent my final hours surrounded by loved ones, each one silent as they watched me suffer. What could they do? This wasn't Frieza or some other foe from my past. My murderer was a virus. He struck without warning, choosing whomever he wanted and leaving no survivors. Silent and thorough, tearing my family apart like he was doing to my heart.
I know it pained each of my friends to see me in that state. Bulma, the first real friend I had ever had, and I would never get to see her newborn son grow up. My own son, Gohan, left behind to be the man of the house. And for the first time in my life I thought of myself. It wasn't fair that I should die like this, not now. We were finally in a time of peace. All the times I had left my wife to go train, promising her the rest of our lives to make it up to her. So much time wasted.
When I took my last breath the room was silent.