Moult
She was, and always had been, P.C.—Park Cat. Since that moment, she had been lying to everyone around her, even her closest friends; when she spoke of her parents, when she spoke of her aunt, she was making these things up. She had never been a child.
When the Earth's rotation had been reversed, when Master Vile had wound back time however, her appearance had changed also, the years falling away from the human form granted her by Rita's magic, her likeness that of a child she had never known, had never been, and, as with all other things, she had lied about it, she had passed it off as something normal, something to assure the others that she was just like them. Better for them to believe that she was a girl cursed to become a cat, rather than a cat who had become a girl.
Yet she was, and always had been, P.C.—Park Cat.
Staring at the child's face in the mirror, she slid her fingers up her cheeks, she stuck out her tongue, narrowed her eyes. A face so young, a face that had never been hers. Wasn't this like moulting fur for the season?
She could not remember being as young as this child that looked back at her now. She was fairly sure that her own mother could not remember her when she had been this young either. This was the thing with cats, she thought sadly, and wondered who had first discovered that if you take the kitten away from the mother, the mother soon forgets. Quietly, she hoped that whoever that person had been, that great Neko-hime had struck them dead.
An uncharitable thing to think, not the kind of thought for a human to have, for a Power Ranger to have.
She moved her fingers against the young flesh once more.
Not that she could be thought of as a Power Ranger right now. Despite still being human, her physiology was different enough now to prevent her from accessing the Morphin' Grid. None of them were Power Rangers right now.
"Children playing make believe," she said aloud, her voice high and squeaky, startling her as she spoke, the voice of a foreign child.
Maybe that's what they had always been. Cats aged differently to people, and she had already been so much older than her friends swhen Rita's hold on her had been broken.
She was, she thought dejectedly, and always had been, P.C.—Park Cat.
Lifting the back of her hand to her lips, she extended her tongue.