The night was long and restless. Kenjiro lay in his massive, cloud-like bed, staring at the ornate ceiling of his suite, his mind a chaotic replay of the day's events. The potion. The brief, glorious return to his true form. The terrifying loss of control. He remembered the raw, intoxicating power, the ease with which he had tossed Gluteus around like a toy, the fear in his friends' eyes. And then... waking up back in this slender, delicate prison, the phantom strength already a fading memory. All he had to show for it was a pounding headache and a profound sense of dread.