Yoshi observed the damage his black fireball had caused. The raw sense of power was euphoric, his blood felt like pure adrenaline running hot through his whole darkling body. He felt like before this moment he had never truly been alive—he could sense everything, see everything, know everything if he desired it. It would probably overwhelm him if he didn't have complete and total control over himself....and everything else.
With a thought, the damage was reversed. He figured he should savor the times ahead, rather than squander his power meaninglessly. He looked back at his figure in the mirror and felt heady with narcissism. He was tall, more than six feet, his body white as chalk and rippling with muscle. His face still looked young though, still like a teenager; he smiled, and decided to keep it that way.
He brushed his claws through his long dark hair and its purple highlights, thinking of what to add, if anything. He looked down at his genitals and was glad to see them so much larger—two balls as big as baseballs with a nine-foot flaccid member thick as a soda can, totally hairless. He decided to add some clothes, just for style, settling on a long, black leather half-robe that began at his waist and ended past his feet, leaving his whole upper body bare. He then gave himself a pair of iron bracelets to finish the image, and chuckled to himself.
Then he remembered his guitar. He twisted around to look at it, thought for a moment, then it flew right into his outstretched hand. It changed in a swirl of black fire into a dark, bladed, many-stringed, musical monstrosity, and slung it over his back. “There,” he said, grinning, “now I look like a real God of Darkness.”