The Lord of the West was not known for benevolence. Decisions of life and death were governed by little other than his whims—a frightening spirit who donned white even on the battlefield, standing like a herald of death against all those who dared challenge him. So when Towa returned, dressed in white garments with the sun at her back and a blade in her hand - Setsuna could only imagine her father's silhouette against the dimming sky, looking down upon Towa with approval. But unlike him, Towa's expression changed rapidly. Shadows fled from her eyes the second they met Setsuna's, lighting up with such joy that it gave Setsuna pause.
Her father had his way of showing happiness. An almost imperceptible curl of the lip, the slightest shutter of his eyelids, a brush of his fingertips against her cheek. Towa was different. She smiled with the intensity of a miniature sun, her eyes crinkled at their corner and pressed up into semi-circles when she was happy enough, and her hold on Setsuna was tight and lingering. Strong arms encircled her shoulders, and silver hair danced in her periphery as Towa embraced her warmly and held her as if she would disappear.
Questions burdened Setsuna's tongue about where Towa had been. Admonishments at her clinginess followed closely behind. Then she caught the smell of blood and felt Towa's hands tremble against her back.
Setsuna shut her eyes. Her father was proficient with words when he wished to be, but some things needn't become prose. As talkative as Towa was, even she had moments like this. The sound of bustling foot traffic by the village's main roads filled the silence, chatter with greetings and well-wishes of the safely-traveled merchants, horses, scuffed their hooves and tiredly brayed. Carriages burdened with wares creaked as they pulled along, sighs of relief sending waves of cold through her heart.
Setsuna laid a hand on Towa's shoulder, feeling the muscle tense as her fingers curled. They lingered like that in the middling sunlight. Towa held onto Setsuna while Setsuna held Towa's shoulder loosely, waiting until her hands stopped trembling. When Towa pulled away, Setsuna noticed she had buried her face against her fur instead of her opposite shoulder. Pink faintly flushes Towa's cheeks, embarrassment at being caught rather than upset. It fades quickly, and Setsuna prides herself on having witnessed it.
Having noticed this little show of weakness. Being the one, Towa would let see this.
She trusts me, Setsuna thought as Towa looked at her with hope-filled eyes. Why is it my recognition you want? You're strong enough that it would be unnecessary, so…
"You're back," Setsuna said. There wasn't any inflection to her voice, she wasn't even sure if the words were spoken with affection or relief or concern. But Towa's lips parted with a sigh as if a great weight was hefted off her shoulders.
"I'm home, Setsuna."
It wasn't the first time she contemplated Towa's claims at sisterhood with some consideration of its merits. Three words, perfunctory and mundane, but listening to them - Setsuna heard something more - the release from anxiety, the elation, the comfort at being close to someone. Feelings she'd only seen from her father since she was a little girl.
Ones Towa gave, openly and without pause.
"... Welcome home," Setsuna replied, a measure of happiness beating in her heart when Towa smiled.