InuYasha watched his wife working beneath the cool spring sun as she worked over her garden.
This was Kagome’s task by choice. He watched her as she worked, a hat on her head to protect her from the sun, but with her blue sleeves tied back to keep them out of the way as she blended in the compost into the dark soil. Her arms moved in a steady rhythm, her eyes focused on the dirt beneath her feet.
Atae dumped a basket of weeds and old leaves into the compost pile at the back of the garden, then came and sat down by his father.
“I tried to help Mama more, but she sent me away,” the boy said, flicking his ear as an insect buzzed near.
“I know,” InuYasha said to his son. “There was only one year she let me turn the garden, and that was the year you were born.” He looked down at the small bundle in his arms, and touched a tiny silver ear. The baby in his arms, looking up at the hanyou with solemn amber eyes, gurgled. “And if you hadn’t come at midwinter, little girl, maybe I would have gotten to do it again.”
“Maybe Mama thinks we eat better when she does it?” Atae said.
“You’re probably right,” InuYasha replied. “We’re better at catching rabbits.”
“Yeah,” Atae said. He looked at his sister, and offered her a claw-tipped finger, which she clasped. “But what is Little Sister going to be good at?”
“Whatever she wants, I suspect,” InuYasha said. He stood up. “Ready for lunch?” he asked.
His son nodded.
“Go wash up,” InuYasha said. “I’ll be right there.”
Kagome, dropping her hoe, walked up and joined him. “You know,” she said, taking her daughter from her father’s capable hands, “that the year you helped with the garden, it turned out a perfectly good harvest.”
“If you say so,” he said, wrapping his arm around her waist. “So why do you always chase me off?”
“Beats hunting rabbits,” she replied, giving him a smirky smile.
“Feh,” he said, and kissed her gently on the forehead. “Shows how much you know. Let’s go eat.” And taking her by the hand, he led her into the house.