Work Text:
The smell was the first thing Miroku noticed as he made his way home after a long day on the road. It was unusual and pungent, and detectible from far enough away that Inuyasha was shooting him amused glances even before they went their separate ways. Miroku approached his home somewhat cautiously. Clearly something unusual had been going on during his absence.
He did his best to be quiet as he entered the hut, so as not to disturb Sango and the children, but they heard him anyway and turned to greet him as he came in.
The interior of the hut was slightly smoky and was indeed the source of the acrid smell. It burned at his nose and eyes, but he could not help the flicker of amusement upon seeing his wife and his two eldest daughters with identical surprised, slightly guilty looks on their faces.
"Welcome home, husband," Sango said.
"What is going on here?" Miroku asked.
"Cooking lessons," she answered, suddenly the very picture of innocence.
"Cooking," he mused, noting the dark smudge of… something on her cheek.
One of the twins giggled, her sister following suit a moment later.
"And what sorts of things have you been cooking up while I was gone?" he wondered aloud, inching further into the hut in hopes of getting a better look.
"Nothing you'd want to eat," Sango informed him before he could get too far.
"The lesson did not go well, then?"
"It wasn't that kind of cooking."
It took a moment for that to make sense in his head. "So, you were cooking…"
"Look!" the younger of the twins said proudly, turning to grab a basket filled with small, slightly misshapen pellets, which she held up for her father to see. Miroku would have recognized them anywhere – they were Taijiya scent beads – and immediately understood what his wife was up to.
He dutifully inspected his daughters' work, noting that the beads were definitely the source of the bad smell. "Very nice work," he commented, earning a delighted smile from each of the girls. Turning to Sango he said, "I take it we'll be eating late tonight?"
She looked slightly sheepish. "They were doing so well, I lost track of the time."
Later that night, after they had eaten a late dinner and put the children to bed, Miroku found himself sitting with Sango in the main room of their house. "You're teaching them to make scent beads?"
"Cooking is something every woman should know how to do," Sango murmured. "And it turns out our daughters are quite good at it. They catch on quickly."
"And what will they learn next?" Miroku asked, curious. "Swordplay?"
Sango glanced at him askance. "Sewing."
"Sewing?"
"They are too little yet, I think, to decide if they wish to be fighters. In another year or two, maybe…"
When his wife first began to train their daughters in the Taijiya ways, Miroku had been expecting daily exercises and wooden practice weapons, or perhaps lessons concerning battle strategy or the different types of youkai, not… lessons in cooking or sewing.
Seeing that she had taken her husband by surprise, Sango let her amusement show. "Not all Taijiya training takes place on the battlefield, husband."