By His Hands
by Nana
*************************
This fic goes to Sango no Miko (Tess-chan), Ryo Miyashiro and Piper for helping out with advice for making rice balls (, as well as Sango-sama for starting it all with her fic challenge.
*************************
Disclaimer: I don't own Miroku and Sango (much as I would like to, though). They all belong to Rumiko Takahashi--so please don't sue. This writer is merely borrowing.
************************
It was done.
Sango carefully lifted the pot from the fire and set it down on the grass before her, watching the steam curl up from within, bringing with it the fragrant smell of cooked rice.
Ahhhh…sugoi…Sango thought, sniffing appreciatively. Nothing like earning one's lunch the hard and honest way.
The rice had been a gift earlier in appreciation of the Taiji-a's services in getting rid of a nasty snake youkai that had been wreaking havoc on a band of hapless, traveling merchants.
Grateful as they were, they could not stay long enough to make any food, and so they had given Sango the raw rice in a pot, along with a quantity of precious salt. And because she and the houshi had not wished to go farther so it would be easier for them to get back to their group by sunset, they had opted to stay behind as the merchants went on their way.
And so here she was, sitting on a slab of flat rock by the stream, waiting for the rice to cool. She looked up as Miroku came trudging back into view with his second load of clean water.
"Houshi-sama, you really don't have to take this so seriously," she said, standing up to help him, her voice betraying her amusement.
Over the course of the day, as they had gone off on their own presumably in search of Shikon fragments (or rather, the houshi had gone off on his own and Sango had followed him), their conversation had taken a most unusual turn when they started to discuss how they were going to look for lunch and who was going to cook it.
In the end, they had agreed that since it did not matter to them who was going to do either task, the one who was not able to look for food would end up cooking whatever the other one found.
What Sango had not really counted on was the fact that the houshi would so gamely stick to his end of the bargain.
After making the fire, he had made Sango sit and tend it, and he had made the rice going after he had fetched water from the stream.
"Please," Miroku said, setting the water down and looking at Sango," I insist."
Well…if he said so…
Sango settled back down, not bothering to disguise the fact that she was mildly amused.
The houshi…cooking? It had not occurred to her that he could--the most that she had ever seen him do was pitch up a fire and conveniently roast whatever they could find in the forest. But she supposed he must know a little, as he had been on the road and on his own for a few years now at least.
"So what are you planning to do?" Sango asked him as he sat down.
Miroku shrugged. "Well, we don't really have a lot of options to choose from. Are onigiri alright with you?"
"Sure," Sango replied. "Umm---wait. You might want to use some of these…"
She took out her small bundle of belongings and, unwrapping the cloth that covered them, handed Miroku a small, brightly colored package in plastic.
NORI, the label read.
"It's from Kagome," said Sango. Her friend had given it to her a couple of days ago, just in case she wanted to have a snack. She had to marvel at the way everything was made so conveniently available in Kagome's time. Could it be possible that instant onigiri were also to be found in the future?
Miroku smiled as he opened the proffered package and set it down. He rolled up his black sleeves, added some salt to the water he had collected and dipped his hands in.
He proceeded to add salt to the rice, approximating the quantity to the proportion of rice in the pot. Then he started to mix the stuff with deft turns of his uncursed hand, kneading the sticky, white rice thoroughly so that the salt would get through.
Too bad they did not have any umeboshi to go with it, Miroku thought.
Sango watched, bemused. "You've done this before," she said.
Miroku turned to her, his brow lifting at her surprised tone.
"I'm just mixing things in," he said, making plain that anyone can do what he was doing.
"I mean, the way your hand…"Sango stopped, aware that he might take it the wrong way.
There was just something about the graceful way he was using his wrist and fingers that made something as mundane as the task of mixing seem extraordinary.
Miroku's eyes widened in surprise at that. "Really?" he said. "I've never noticed. I probably got that from Michiko-san from way back…"
The effect of those words was unfortunate. Sango's brows instantly came crashing down.
"Who?" She growled.
Miroku sighed gently, his eyes closed. "That is, Michiko-OBAsan," he corrected himself. "She used to help out at Mushin-sama's temple."
He turned to look at a confused Sango with a hint of mischief in his eyes, and said simply, "You don't expect me to eat all of Mushin-sama's food and live to the present day, do you?"
Sango shook her head and muttered, "I wouldn't know."
She fell silent as she watched him scoop a fistful of rice and began rolling it in his large left hand, using the fingers of his right hand to help mold it into a ball while taking care not to soil his glove and rosary beads in the process. He pressed the ball down onto his palm firmly with his long, slender fingers, forming a triangle, while patting it down at the same time to help maintain its shape.
Thus finished, he placed the final product on the piece of cloth Sango had spread on the stone slab before wetting his hands again and repeating the procedure until all the rice in the pot was finished.
Seeing him work, Sango could not help but observe the movements of his hands.
How very odd, she thought, watching as he cradled the ball of rice in his palm in a firm but surprisingly gentle grip, that those very same hands which can cause her no end of aggravation by finding their way in all the wrong places on a girl, were now proving themselves useful by preparing a simple meal for her. For some strange reason, Sango had found that…moving.
In no time at all, he had prepared four large rice balls. He wrapped some nori around the base of each ball and offered her two.
As she took the food, Sango realized with a bemused sort of wonder that she was seeing a little bit of the Houshi in everything he did. For this was not just food prepared by his hands--it was all his good intentions and regard for her wrapped in a delicious combination of rice and seaweed.
He held his rice ball to her. "Thank you for the rice," he said solemnly.
She took a bite of his offering and smiled.
"Oishi," she said.
*********************
Vocabulary:
Nori: a type of seaweed
Oba-san: an aunt older than one's parent (in Miroku's case, he meant an ELDERLY woman, period.)
Sugoi: wonderful; great
*********************
Author's Note:
WHEW!!!! Rice balls or onigiri are indeed such complicated matters (sigh)!
According to Internet sources, "Nigiri" (from the verb "nigiru" = to grab/clasp/hold/hand-pack etc.)
refers to a category of hand-prepared foods such as sushi and onigiri.
I owe this much to Ayama-san for correcting me in their make--onigiri are actually made of unseasoned short-grained rice. Therefore they are different from sushi in the sense that sushi are made of vinegared rice. You can insert a piece of salmon inside an onigiri, or umeboshi (salt pickled plum), or what have you. You can even coat it with soy sauce or sesame seeds.
The classic shape is that of a triangle, although a variety of shapes are acceptable--round, oval, you name it. Be sure to wet your hands before handling them (some would recommend using salt water), to prevent the unfortunate circumstance of getting them all sticky in your hand.
So please go on and make my day (am learning loads from you guys!), do keep your reviews coming! ^^
story modified: 3/16/01
by Nana
*************************
This fic goes to Sango no Miko (Tess-chan), Ryo Miyashiro and Piper for helping out with advice for making rice balls (, as well as Sango-sama for starting it all with her fic challenge.
*************************
Disclaimer: I don't own Miroku and Sango (much as I would like to, though). They all belong to Rumiko Takahashi--so please don't sue. This writer is merely borrowing.
************************
It was done.
Sango carefully lifted the pot from the fire and set it down on the grass before her, watching the steam curl up from within, bringing with it the fragrant smell of cooked rice.
Ahhhh…sugoi…Sango thought, sniffing appreciatively. Nothing like earning one's lunch the hard and honest way.
The rice had been a gift earlier in appreciation of the Taiji-a's services in getting rid of a nasty snake youkai that had been wreaking havoc on a band of hapless, traveling merchants.
Grateful as they were, they could not stay long enough to make any food, and so they had given Sango the raw rice in a pot, along with a quantity of precious salt. And because she and the houshi had not wished to go farther so it would be easier for them to get back to their group by sunset, they had opted to stay behind as the merchants went on their way.
And so here she was, sitting on a slab of flat rock by the stream, waiting for the rice to cool. She looked up as Miroku came trudging back into view with his second load of clean water.
"Houshi-sama, you really don't have to take this so seriously," she said, standing up to help him, her voice betraying her amusement.
Over the course of the day, as they had gone off on their own presumably in search of Shikon fragments (or rather, the houshi had gone off on his own and Sango had followed him), their conversation had taken a most unusual turn when they started to discuss how they were going to look for lunch and who was going to cook it.
In the end, they had agreed that since it did not matter to them who was going to do either task, the one who was not able to look for food would end up cooking whatever the other one found.
What Sango had not really counted on was the fact that the houshi would so gamely stick to his end of the bargain.
After making the fire, he had made Sango sit and tend it, and he had made the rice going after he had fetched water from the stream.
"Please," Miroku said, setting the water down and looking at Sango," I insist."
Well…if he said so…
Sango settled back down, not bothering to disguise the fact that she was mildly amused.
The houshi…cooking? It had not occurred to her that he could--the most that she had ever seen him do was pitch up a fire and conveniently roast whatever they could find in the forest. But she supposed he must know a little, as he had been on the road and on his own for a few years now at least.
"So what are you planning to do?" Sango asked him as he sat down.
Miroku shrugged. "Well, we don't really have a lot of options to choose from. Are onigiri alright with you?"
"Sure," Sango replied. "Umm---wait. You might want to use some of these…"
She took out her small bundle of belongings and, unwrapping the cloth that covered them, handed Miroku a small, brightly colored package in plastic.
NORI, the label read.
"It's from Kagome," said Sango. Her friend had given it to her a couple of days ago, just in case she wanted to have a snack. She had to marvel at the way everything was made so conveniently available in Kagome's time. Could it be possible that instant onigiri were also to be found in the future?
Miroku smiled as he opened the proffered package and set it down. He rolled up his black sleeves, added some salt to the water he had collected and dipped his hands in.
He proceeded to add salt to the rice, approximating the quantity to the proportion of rice in the pot. Then he started to mix the stuff with deft turns of his uncursed hand, kneading the sticky, white rice thoroughly so that the salt would get through.
Too bad they did not have any umeboshi to go with it, Miroku thought.
Sango watched, bemused. "You've done this before," she said.
Miroku turned to her, his brow lifting at her surprised tone.
"I'm just mixing things in," he said, making plain that anyone can do what he was doing.
"I mean, the way your hand…"Sango stopped, aware that he might take it the wrong way.
There was just something about the graceful way he was using his wrist and fingers that made something as mundane as the task of mixing seem extraordinary.
Miroku's eyes widened in surprise at that. "Really?" he said. "I've never noticed. I probably got that from Michiko-san from way back…"
The effect of those words was unfortunate. Sango's brows instantly came crashing down.
"Who?" She growled.
Miroku sighed gently, his eyes closed. "That is, Michiko-OBAsan," he corrected himself. "She used to help out at Mushin-sama's temple."
He turned to look at a confused Sango with a hint of mischief in his eyes, and said simply, "You don't expect me to eat all of Mushin-sama's food and live to the present day, do you?"
Sango shook her head and muttered, "I wouldn't know."
She fell silent as she watched him scoop a fistful of rice and began rolling it in his large left hand, using the fingers of his right hand to help mold it into a ball while taking care not to soil his glove and rosary beads in the process. He pressed the ball down onto his palm firmly with his long, slender fingers, forming a triangle, while patting it down at the same time to help maintain its shape.
Thus finished, he placed the final product on the piece of cloth Sango had spread on the stone slab before wetting his hands again and repeating the procedure until all the rice in the pot was finished.
Seeing him work, Sango could not help but observe the movements of his hands.
How very odd, she thought, watching as he cradled the ball of rice in his palm in a firm but surprisingly gentle grip, that those very same hands which can cause her no end of aggravation by finding their way in all the wrong places on a girl, were now proving themselves useful by preparing a simple meal for her. For some strange reason, Sango had found that…moving.
In no time at all, he had prepared four large rice balls. He wrapped some nori around the base of each ball and offered her two.
As she took the food, Sango realized with a bemused sort of wonder that she was seeing a little bit of the Houshi in everything he did. For this was not just food prepared by his hands--it was all his good intentions and regard for her wrapped in a delicious combination of rice and seaweed.
He held his rice ball to her. "Thank you for the rice," he said solemnly.
She took a bite of his offering and smiled.
"Oishi," she said.
*********************
Vocabulary:
Nori: a type of seaweed
Oba-san: an aunt older than one's parent (in Miroku's case, he meant an ELDERLY woman, period.)
Sugoi: wonderful; great
*********************
Author's Note:
WHEW!!!! Rice balls or onigiri are indeed such complicated matters (sigh)!
According to Internet sources, "Nigiri" (from the verb "nigiru" = to grab/clasp/hold/hand-pack etc.)
refers to a category of hand-prepared foods such as sushi and onigiri.
I owe this much to Ayama-san for correcting me in their make--onigiri are actually made of unseasoned short-grained rice. Therefore they are different from sushi in the sense that sushi are made of vinegared rice. You can insert a piece of salmon inside an onigiri, or umeboshi (salt pickled plum), or what have you. You can even coat it with soy sauce or sesame seeds.
The classic shape is that of a triangle, although a variety of shapes are acceptable--round, oval, you name it. Be sure to wet your hands before handling them (some would recommend using salt water), to prevent the unfortunate circumstance of getting them all sticky in your hand.
So please go on and make my day (am learning loads from you guys!), do keep your reviews coming! ^^
story modified: 3/16/01