This is totally Mulan, InuYasha style. But with a twist. I think it's cool, and it's going to be really long and detailed. So please read and review! And wait for the next chapter!

Sango sat stiffly on Kirara's back. Her auburn-brown hair was pulled back into it's usual ponytail, flowing back by Miroku's face. She couldn't believe she was going to Miroku's home again. And to announce their engagement! She just couldn't wait! But then again, she was kind of nervous. She had only met Master Mushin a couple times, but she knew that he was very similar to Miroku. Or rather, Miroku was similar to Mushin. What if he didn't take them seriously? Or what if he insulted her for not being pretty or womanly enough for him?

"Sango…?" Miroku asked, tightening his grip on his staff in front of her. He set it down to balance on her thighs. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulled her back to him, sitting her on his lap. He rubbed his hands up and down her stomach and her hips, enjoying the feel of her warm skin through the thin tight fabric.

"What's wrong?" he whispered into her neck, near her ear. Shivers erupted through her nerves, rising a blush to her cheeks.

"N-nothing, Houshi-sama. I'm just kind of nervous…"

Miroku chuckled slightly. "There's nothing to be nervous about Sango. Mushin is a kind and friendly man. He wont think anything foul of you, you have my word."

Sango smiled slightly. She reached down and grasped his bare right hand in hers. They had recently defeated Naraku, free to continue on with their lives. Miroku had decided that before they began on their children, he should probably inform his father figure that he was getting married. "It would be quite the surprise," he had said, "for Mushin if we came to his door with a grandson". Even though Mushin wasn't his technical father, he was still considered and respected as such.

Finally, Mushin's temple was clear through the fog. Kirara plummeted down, landing swiftly on the grass in the front lawn. Miroku hopped off, offering his assistance to the girl still perched on the neko-demon. Brushing herself off, Sango stared at the building before her.

Miroku grasped her hand. She looked up to see his comforting, smiling face.

The two walked into the hut, expecting to see the drunken monk asleep on the floor, sake in hand. But he was sitting up in front of the fire. With a cup of tea. Hachi sat next to him, and next to Hachi was…a woman?

She had long black hair pulled into a strict bun atop her head. Her kimono was crisp and tight, not a crease in sight. Her face was pale and old, bags and wrinkles lining her eyes. She sipped her tea daintily, a long fingered hand supporting the cup from beneath. Her eyes opened, revealing that same beautiful purple color that Miroku's possessed. Her eyes fell upon Miroku, widening at the sight.

"Miroku-kun? Is that you?" she asked, setting her cup down lightly. She placed her small hand upon her chest, over her heart. She was definitely a proper and well-bread woman. Sango couldn't help but admire her and stare…

"Mother?" Miroku asked, stepping toward her.

Wait? Mother?
"Oh Miroku!" She smiled, tears forming in her eyes. She threw herself at him, grasping him in a tight hug. She buried her face into his broad shoulder, crying softly. "I can't believe it's you after all these years…"

Miroku smiled down at her, then pulled her away. He stroked her cheek with his thumb, staring at her with kind, loving eyes.

"Mother…where have you been all this time?"

The monk's mom smiled and shook her head, looking down at the floor. "After your father died Miroku I just had to leave. I couldn't stand to see you grow up and then just meet the same fate as your father had. I couldn't see that happening to my little boy…. So I decided to find that Naraku fellow, but that didn't do any good for me. I only ended up getting knocked into a tree and received temporary amnesia. But one day, I just randomly regained all my memories! So I made my way back here, all the way from Kyoto mind you, to see you again."

Miroku's smile fell. "Temporary amnesia? Are you alright?"

"Yes dear I'm fine. But look at you! You look like you've been sleeping with the demons! How dare you come to this temple as filthy as you are? This is a house of Buddha!" She shook her finger at him, scorning him. "You better bathe yourself young man."

Miroku chuckled. "Yes mother I'll see to it. But first I want you to meet someone."

Sango was looking at herself, trying to inspect herself for imperfections. She was dirtier than Miroku, and therefore felt shamed. She was supposed to be cleaner than him at all times! She was the woman for Heaven's sake! Not to mention she was wearing a demon slayer's uniform and was covered in scars. No make up or hair care to speak of. She was repulsive.

"This is Sango," Miroku said, turning to her. He placed his hand around her waist, causing her to blush. "She is my fian-"

"What is she wearing?" Miroku's mother exclaimed, looking her up and down. Disgust was clear on her face.

Miroku scowled.

"She's a taijiya mother. A demon slayer."

"Repulsive!" Miroku's mother shouted, placing her doll-like hand over her wax-coated lips. Sango looked to the floor in shame. She had read her thoughts…

"Mother that is hardly appropriate. She's my fiancé."

"F-fiancé?!" she asked, eyes wide in shock.

"Yes. Sango, this is my mother, Kazumi of Osana."

Sango looked up at her, her face hot. She bowed slightly, showing her respect.

"I'm Sango of the Demon Slayer Village. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Kazumi-sama."

Kazumi nodded, straightening out her kimono. "Well then. I believe that Miroku has a bath to take, but I see that you need one much more than he does. Why don't you make your way to the bath house? You do know what that is, don't you?" She inquired, a sneer upon her face. "And please change out of those savage's clothes. It's degrading to this household."

Sango shook her head, tears forming in her eyes. She walked out of the room, making her way to the bath house. She opened the door, seeing a warm tub of water before her. It looked so comforting and soothing. Just what she needed. Stripping down, she let her "savage" clothes fall around her ankles. She set down the armor carefully. She raised her arms to untie her hair, but not before she heard the door open.

"Not now Miroku," Sango stated coldly, keeping her back to the intruder. "I'm not in the mood."

"It's Kazumi," a cold voice stated, a tint of repugnance in her voice. Sango froze. Shit. She had surely seen her scars, especially the large one upon her back where Kohaku had wounded her. A regal woman like that probably had never been scratched before in her life, and a giant gash like this was probably beyond revolting.

Sango quickly brought her black taijiya outfit to her chest, turning to face the woman before her. Kazumi-sama had a light green silk kimono in her arms, holding it out to her.

"Please wear this. I refuse to have you in such hideous clothing if I have to look at you."

Sango took it and set it on the floor.

"Thank you Kazumi-dono," she said. It was so hard not to snap at her. How dare she insult her village and culture so?!

"You're welcome….what was you're name again?" she asked, a pitiful look on her face.

"San-"

"Right, right. Leave your hair down when you're through as well. And put some make-up on for Buddha's sake. You look positively barbaric." She slammed the door shut, leaving Sango in the cold. She threw the kimono onto the ground in rage, pulling her hair from it's holder harshly. She stomped up the steps and sloshed into the tub, crossing her arms angrily.

She had been nervous about Mushin? Ha! She hadn't even talked to the man! Instead she was confronted with this, this bitch! She knew that Miroku's family was kind of…fancy but this was ridiculous! She wasn't going to change her entire way of living just to impress this woman! Sure she would dress in the kimono, but that was it! No way was she acting any different for her!

But what if she didn't consent to the marriage?

Sango paled, and stared into the water.

That was right. If she desired, she could stop them from getting married. And then she would never be able to see him again. No doubt she would lock Miroku up in the temple, forcing him to become a proper monk and gentleman. She couldn't live with that. She loved Miroku. With all her heart. And she had worked to hard and too long to destroy Naraku, just so they could be together.

So if she had to impress this woman, so be it.

Stepping out of the water, Sango daintily placed her foot onto the ground. Softly drying herself off, she wrung her hair out until it was dry.

She unfolded the kimono, admiring it's beauty. She had never honestly seen a real kimono this up close before, so that she could touch it. She rubbed the fabric between her fingers, enjoying the texture. She carefully pulled her arms through the sleeves, her feet through the flaps. Pulling it closed, she placed the obi around her slim waist, tying the pick bow in the back. There were golden and silver ornaments that hung from the obi, and she struggled to place them on properly.

Finally, she was ready. Combing her long brown hair out, she let in hang tie-less.

Sango made her way back to the main temple, trying to walk with the poise and stature she'd seen princesses from villages use. She slid the shoji screen door open quietly, as not to disturb anyone inside. She stepped in slowly, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. Feeling eyes on her, she turned to face an awestruck Miroku and Mushin. Kazumi, however, did not even glance up from her dinner.

"Sango…" Miroku breathed, drinking her in. "Where did you…?"

"Kazumi-sama lent it to me," Sango replied, looking down at him with a shy smile. She sat next to him, kneeling before her plate. "How does it look, Houshi-sama?"

"Beautiful as always, my dear Sango," he answered, taking a lock of her hair to his lips. He kissed it, staring at her flushed face with a smirk.

"Ahem," Kazumi coughed, chopsticks in hand. "May we resume dinner please?"

Miroku nodded, then whispered to Sango, "Sorry for starting without you, she insisted."

Sango nodded as well, both in response to Kazumi and Miroku. "It's alright."

"No secrets at dinner please. It's very rude and not very polite to your hosts," she spat, looking right at Sango. She turned her head away.

"Now now mother, Sango is as much as a guest as you are. If she's to be my wife than she's just as welcome in this house as you are," Miroku replied, feeling a little annoyed at his mother's insulting antics. So what if Sango wasn't a well-bread woman such as her? He loved her, and that was all that mattered. Why couldn't she see that?

"Yeah we'll see about that," Kazumi mumbled into her rice.

"Mother!" Miroku shouted. "What did she ever do to you?!"

"She has no honor!" Kazumi yelled back. "She is not good enough for you Miroku. You need someone why has a title, or whom is famous. That or honored by the people or the government."

A harsh knock came from the front shoji screen.

"Open up! Imperial Shogunate Army!"

"Oh my," Kazumi said, raising her hand to her mouth yet again.

Mushin stood, walking to the door. He opened it, revealing a fully clad samurai, helmet in his hand. Behind him trailed a short line of more samurai, all looking tired and bored.

"Yes?" Mushin asked. "What is it you ask of this humble temple of Buddha?"

"We are here on orders of the Shogun, Lord Kurenosuke."

Sango gasped. "Kurenosuke!"

She remembered him from a while ago, before Miroku and herself had recognized their feelings for one another. He had tried to court her, and was still waiting for her return. Miroku, at the time, had done nothing to stop her, but out of pure will of love, she had refused. She had hoped that Miroku would eventually reveal his feelings for her, which proved to be true.

"Shogun Kurenosuke-dono has ordered a state of National Emergency. We are going to war with the continent! Therefore, one man from every household must serve in the Shogunate's army! Who is your youngest, most able-bodied man?"

Mushin looked back, closing the shoji screen slightly, blocking their view of Miroku.

"I am."

"No, you aren't. I believe I saw one younger and more fit than you, dining." The man pushed the screen open, revealing Miroku. He stepped inside. "You, lad. Come forth."

Miroku obliged, walking to the front of the house. The Samurai leader inspected him thoroughly, seeing his strong muscles and legs.

"He shall be a fine addition to the army. Report to the center of the closest village tomorrow at sunrise. Do not think you can skip out on this. If you do not come, we will come back for you. And if you run away, we will hunt you down. You shall bring honor to your family and this country by serving in the war."

"But I'm a monk!" Miroku protested. "The civilians need me!"

"The older, wiser monks will take care of it. We need every able bodied man we can get."

The man handed Miroku a samurai's uniform, completed in the armor and sword.

"See you tomorrow."

And with that, they left.

"No! Not my baby!" Kazumi shouted, running to him. She hugged him, knocking the armor to the floor. She began to sob uncontrollably into his chest. He stared at her, then looked up at Sango. She sat in front of her food, staring down at her thighs. Miroku saw a tear escape her eye and fall to the floor.

"Sango…" Miroku whispered, pushing his mother aside. He ran over to her, embracing her fully. He nuzzled her neck with his nose, his eyes pooling with water as well. "I…I don't know what to do…"

Sango ran her fingers through his hair.

"Miroku…"

Later that night, everyone lay in there rooms. As not to upset Kazumi any farther than they already had, Sango and Miroku had gotten separate rooms. Though Sango couldn't sleep. She lay on her futon, holding her blanket to her body tightly. She stared up at the ceiling, trying to think of a way to get him out of this.

The samurai's words still rang in her head, "You shall bring honor to your family and this country by serving in the war…"

Sango gasped.

Honor…

If she took Miroku's place…then she could save him, make his mother happy, and impress her at the same time! If she somehow became a hero of Japan…than she would surely allow them to be married!

Smiling, Sango sat up. She grabbed her sword, unsheathing it as quietly as possible. She took her hair in her hand, bringing the sword to it. Slicing swiftly and clean, she cut her hair to her ears. Tying it atop her head, she stood up.

Stealthily, she opened up the shoji screen. Creeping down the hall, she went to the main room. The samurai outfit still lay, discarded on the floor. She picked it up, putting it on as quickly and quietly as possible. After she was fully clad, she took a piece of paper and some ink. And she began to write;

Miroku,

I can't bear to see you be freed from your curse, and then put your life on the line yet again. I wont allow it to happen. I won't see you die, after all we've been through. So, instead, I am going to take your place. Please, don't be mad, for this is not only for you, but for your mother. And for us. If I can prove to her that I am more than just a filthy girl, and that I can bring honor to my name, she may allow us to be married. And that is what I want more than anything. I want us to be happy, but not at the expense of your mother. So please, keep me in your prayers, and wait for my return. I'm going to be the hero of Japan you know, so don't you dare stray from me to another woman.

Love,

Sango

Sango re-read it, then placed it outside her door. Finally, she made her way out, to the outside. To the village.

To war.

In the morning, Miroku woke early. He opened his door to find the note. He bent over and picked it up, unfolding it carefully. He scanned it over, reading it fully. Then he re-read it. Then he read it again. And again. His face fell, and he became pale. He dropped the note, then fell to his knees.

"S-sango…." he stuttered, tears forming in his eyes.

"You fool..."