Rin could still remember the day she'd met Setsuna. It'd been the day that had finally changed her life for the better and even years later she could replay it in her mind in vivid detail.
She had become accustomed to finding herself a target for the village men. She had no protectors and no family to fear reprisals from. Whether she was guilty of the crimes used to justify her mistreatment was largely irrelevant. The men of Rin's village were like most peasant men who populated the innumerable small villages that dotted the countryside; tired and frustrated from long days of backbreaking labor. They toiled away in order to ensure there would be enough food and shelter for their families survival.
The realities of life in the warring age led to feelings of insecurity, of powerlessness. Ruled over by an uncaring Shogunate, the constant threat of violence; bandit raids and outside invaders cast a dark shadow that was ever present.
It was dispiriting, though not surprising, that some men would respond to all of this by exerting what little power they did have over someone even weaker and more vulnerable than they were.
On that day, as it were, Rin had been guilty of the wrongdoing she was forced to suffer the consequences of. She had gotten into a farmer's rice barrels, sticking the side hems of her kosode into her obi, she shoved as much rice as would fit into the resulting pouches. Then she had stolen away back into the night. While the farmer hadn't caught her on that particular occasion, he had caught her before. Upon discovering his rice supply was lower than it should've been, he correctly surmised that the scrappy local orphan was up to her old tricks. The farmer gathered up a gang of his sons and some farm hands and they went to teach her a lesson.
Rin was rudely awoken early in the morning and forced from the stack of dried grass that served as her bedding. Dragged outside by her arm, she found herself in a circle of angry faces. Merely waist-high with even the shortest of them, she hadn't noticed the purple-clad warrior approaching their group.
One of the farmers pulled back and swung his bicchiu-guwa into her stomach, knocking her to the ground. Rin wrapped her arms around her small, malnourished body, bracing herself for further blows.
"Is there a problem here?" It was a female voice, youthful but with an authoritative tone.
Her beating interrupted, the circle parted just enough for Rin to view the source of the voice. She thought the girl unusual right away. Rin had never seen a woman in armor before. The presence of armor itself was slightly unnerving; to Rin, armor meant soldiers or bandits—neither of which were welcome reminders.
As she took in more of the girl's appearance though, Rin had the feeling she had nothing to fear from her. Maybe it was the large, fluffy piece of fur that draped around her shoulder. It looked so soft and comfortable. The abounding fur seemed to balance out the battle-ready hardness of the armor while giving off the same sense of protective security.
"This has nothing to do with you," the farmer told the armor-clad girl. "Move along and mind your own business."
The girl was unmoved. "Pathetic," she said, in a bland monotone that didn't imply whether it was merely an observation or an expression of legitimate offense towards their actions.
"Ganging up on a child? Seems a bit like overkill. Tell me, is this helpless little girl really such a threat to you—A group of grown men?"
The circle broke out into a wave of overlapping epithets and grumbles of disbelief at the girls impudence. The lead farmer glared at the interloper.
"You don't know shit. What we're doling out here is a punishment," he said firmly. "Girl ain't got a ma or pa to discipline her or let her know right from wrong so we gotta step in and do it ourselves."
One of the other men joined in their defense. "This little brat was stealing from our rice barrels. We work the rice paddies until our fingers bleed! We have every right to teach her lesson!"
The girl stepped forward and came completely into Rin's view. Her right side had been partially obscured by the men's bodies and she could now see that the girl carried something with her. Rin had seen knives and swords before but never anything like the impressive-looking weapon at the girls side. A curved blade at the end of a body-length handle.
The farmer tightened his grip on his bicchiu-guwa but the practical fork-hoe seemed dull and non-threatening compared to the shiny, sharpened blade wielded by the approaching stranger.
"Yeah, yeah, you've got a fancy weapon," the farmer said, dismissively. 'But as you can see, you're outnumbered. You believe in fair fights—I respect that. But you're not getting one here."
The girl stalked closer and Rin could see how her dark hair flowed with angry streaks of red. Some of the other men must have noticed too because one of them nudged the farmer and warned, "Yo, Boss, are we sure she's even human?"
"Yeah," someone else agreed, "I don't like the looks of her."
The farmer's expression turned exasperated and he grabbed the man by his kosode. "Itsuki, I swear, if you pussy out on me because you're afraid of an 'onago' with a flashy gardening tool—"
"You don't pay me enough to take that chance," the man retorted, shaking himself loose. "I ain't getting my ass kicked because you want to intimidate that grubby freak kid."
The farmer sneered. "Fine." He addressed the other men. "Coward's; you'll be working the fields until sundown. Meanwhile—" he told them, "—anyone who can prove they're not pissing themselves over someone's nosy little daughter gets the day off."
He raised his bicchiu-guwa, readying for an offensive strike. As he did, the girl sped up into a run. Before the farmer had time to react, the bicchiu-guwa had been knocked out of his hands and, in a recreation of what he'd done to Rin earlier, the hilt of the girl's weapon smashed into his stomach. He collapsed to the ground; clutching his midsection and moaning in pain.
Two other men lunged at the girl. They were unarmed, having shown up expecting their only opponent to be a defenseless child. They were knocked out so quickly, Rin hadn't been able to process the movements between the initial lunge and their bodies hitting the ground. The remaining men didn't even attempt an attack.
"Fucking told him so," one of them—Itsuki, said. He turned to leave, followed by the others.
"Boss ain't gonna be happy we didn't put up a fight," another said.
"Boss just got his ass handed to him by a fucking girl in one blow," Itsuki scoffed. "He can't say shit to us."
They left and it was just Rin and her mysterious savior amid the unconscious bodies of her tormentors. It turned out to be the last day Rin would have to deal with any of them ever again; the last day she would ever spend in the village where she'd been born. Setsuna, as Rin would come to know her, offered her an outstretched hand and she'd taken it.
Setsuna wasn't a talker. Neither was Rin, at first. The initial days of her new life felt almost like a dream. For the first time since her family's deaths, it felt like things were finally turning around for her. Freed from her daily misery, Rin was happy to merely tag along with her silent yet amiable savior.
Eventually, Rin began speaking again, the length of her sentences increasing with the distance from the village. With the return of her voice, came the cautious yet curious inquiries from Setsuna. Rin explained about her family's death, her mistreatment by the villagers, the nightmares that still plagued her.
Setsuna did not offer nearly as much about herself in return but Rin didn't care. It didn't matter who she was or where she had come from or whether she was human or yokai. Setsuna had rescued her from a desperate situation and given her a second chance at life.
Rin isn't sure how long they journeyed together. It couldn't have been very long; she doesn't recall a significant change in the season but Setsuna looms large in her memory in a way that makes their time together seem more considerable than it actually was. Even still, the girl herself had always remained something of a mystery to Rin.
Her strange encounter with Sesshoumaru has brought Setsuna back to the forefront of Rin's mind. It wasn't exactly like she'd forgotten about the girl but as the years went by, she began to think about her less and less. Until seeing Sesshoumaru again, she hadn't even realized that she'd been harboring this need to talk about Setsuna; to reminisce about her to someone who had known her too.
She'd only been in Sesshoumaru's presence a handful of times but he'd made a distinct impression. His appearance and demeanor had been striking and his interactions with Setsuna, intriguing. They were obviously familiar but their conversations alternated between formal exchanges of information and an often contentious banter.
The day before had been the first time Rin had seen the daiyokai since Setsuna had vanished back to the place she'd come from, years prior. Still, she'd recognized him right away—it was impossible not to. The fur she would've recognized anywhere; that voluminous heap of white fur her childhood self could never keep her eyes off of. It was like a larger, more impressive version of Setsuna's. That fur you could almost imagine coming to life, revealing itself as a separate entity; a living beast who tagged along atop its owner's shoulder.
Rin had asked Setsuna about her and the daiyokai's similar furs.
"Are you and Sesshoumaru-sama the same kind of yokai?"
Setsuna had responded that, yes, they were both dog demons.
"Is yours smaller because you're only half-dog demon?″ Rin had already known Setsuna was a hanyo at that point although it was only then that she learned what type of yokai her non-human side had come from.
For some reason, Setsuna hesitated before giving her an answer.
"Yes," she'd replied, simply.
Rin had thought the hesitation was her forming a longer reply and waited patiently for a more elaborate explanation. One was not forthcoming however and Setsuna had lapsed back into one of her characteristic silences.
Sesshoumaru's brief return to her life is causing her to contemplate how similar they both seemed to her, both then and now. Perhaps that was just how all dog demons—half-breed or not—acted. After all, they were the only two inu-yokai she had ever met before. But as antagonistic as Sesshoumaru had acted toward her the other day, being near him had made her feel almost like being near Setsuna again.
What had Sesshoumaru been to Setsuna?
Where had they known each other from?
As a child, she hadn't thought to ask and what she could remember wasn't especially revealing. The more Rin recalls of those long ago encounters, the more aware she is of how age and innocence had caused her to miss something vital.
But there's only one person she can ask who would know the answers to these questions and he doesn't wish to speak to her. He doesn't seem to want anything to do with her at all; their only connecting thread a name he's banished from her lips.