Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha (Rumiko Takahashi-san and Viz Media do).

A/N: This story is honestly not at the level I want it to be, but I hope you all enjoy it anyways (or let me know what you hated). I hope to have the rest of the ship days done this coming week!

DAY 16

Sango/Miroku: Future Dreams

Snow swirled all around them, so thickly that the sky and the ground were indistinguishable. The only visibility they had was granted by Kirara's flames and Shippō's kitsunebi, but their small companions were tiring. Sango hoped that Kagome and Inuyasha found shelter from the storm. One moment they were all traveling together - Sango, Miroku, and Shippō on Kirara while Inuyasha carried Kagome - the next it began snowing, and soon after that both groups lost sight of each other. They had shouted and searched, but the whistling winds swallowed all sound and they could barely see six feet in front of their noses.

Now, Sango and Miroku trudged through the snow, both with a hand on Kirara's back, the large transformed cat walking between them with Shippō on her back. Shippō's foxfire gradually grew dimmer as they trudged along. Soon it was a mere flicker and then it snuffed out.

"Shippō!" Miroku reached out to catch the falling kitsune child. His fingers were bright red and his lips were turning blue.

"So cold…" Shippō mumbled as he snuggled against Miroku.

Everything around them was cold and frozen, but Shippō seemed to be made of ice. Of course the child was exhausted - as much as Shippō bragged that he could pull his own weight, he was still a little kid and had expended a lot of yōki to light their way with his kitsunebi. Miroku tucked Shippō beneath his lighter purple outerobe, holding the shivering boy in place with one arm.

Sango reached across Kirara's back and took Miroku's other hand in hers, unwilling to risk being separated in the horrible blizzard. Shippō had already succumbed to exhaustion. Kirara was not far behind - she trudged dutifully on through the snow, but she would not last long.

Was that light up ahead? Small specks cut through the snow. Where there was light, there were people; hopefully friendly, peaceable people. Sango and Miroku hastened forward, but Kirara staggered in the snow drifts. She gave her all and her fire faded as she shrunk to her normal size.

"Kirara!" Sango cried out, turning back to pick up her cat, but never letting go of Miroku's hand. It was so easy to lose another person.

They walked forward until they nearly bumped into the great wooden gates. A sentry called down to them and opened the gates. The world inside the courtyard was still a sea of white, but the walls blocked out some of the wind and guide ropes crisscrossed between the buildings. Miroku pulled a shivering Sango close and she pressed herself against him. The four of them huddled together - Shippō still an indistinguishable lump underneath Miroku's outer robe and Kirara in Sango's arms.

Brought before the lord of the castle, Miroku told a (mostly true) tale of their quest and mission. He neither confirmed nor denied that they were hunting Shikon Jewel shards, instead spinning his tale of a quest to find and destroy Naraku as a matter of honor, vengeance, and the safety of future generations. At the mention of future generations, the lord nodded to the Shippō-shaped lump under Miroku's robes.

"To be on such a dangerous quest with one so young… I cannot imagine." The lord looked at them sadly.

Oh, what a cruel fate the kami had dealt this young couple - to be burdened with a generational curse from such a horrible being. He prayed they would be successful in their quest, although he did not approve of a mother and her small child being on the road and fighting such battles, he understood. This woman had a fire in her eyes, a fierce light that would not be extinguished. She was a warrior who would do anything for the monk beside her.

Miroku had nearly forgotten about Shippō. The twin-tailed cat was easy enough to explain away - Sango was clearly her master - but normally Shippō's presence did not go over as smoothly. Miroku usually accounted for these things. Carefully planned their forays into towns and villages (although he was no stranger to maneuvering his way out of sticky situations with only his wits).

"Ah, yes," Miroku said, feigning embarrassment, "things do happen, as one knows. Did I mention that the lovely Sango is also my wife?" His lies were usually smoother, more ready. But this one was different. This one was also a wish he held close to his heart.

Miroku snaked an arm around Sango's waist, pulling her closer, and grinned at the lord. Sango blushed prettily and leaned into him, bringing a hand up to cradle Shippō's head and kissing it through her "husband's" robe. Half and hour later, Sango, Miroku, Kirara, and their "son" were led to a room by the generous lord (Miroku hadn't even had to trick him with a fake exorcism, but he did promise to check the palace for evil presences and gift the lord with ofuda for protection and health). There was a single, family-sized futon piled with quilts in the center of the room and the lord informed them that a servant would come by shortly with food for the weary travelers.

"So we're married now?" Sango whispered as soon as the lord's footsteps receded down the hallway. To Miroku's relief, she seemed mildly amused.

"Easier to explain a human child than a yōkai one," he replied. Then he smirked at Sango. "It seems that after all these years, it was finally you, dear Sango, who agreed to bear my child!"

"Don't think I won't smack you here if you try something!" she hissed back, eyeing his hand.

Shippō stirred and poked his head up out of Miroku's head, rubbing his eyes with his tiny fists. "Miroku? How did you get Sango to marry you? Are you really going to have a baby?" he asked, with perfect timing, as ever.

Sango turned bright red and covered her face with her hands. She wanted to protest, to correct Shippō, but she could not deny that this was her secret wish. How had she fallen for such a lecherous monk? And why could she not dissuade her heart?

Miroku had the good grace to be slightly embarrassed. "Ah, Shippō, I believe there has been a bit of a mix up here -"

"How do you accidentally get married?" Shippō asked. Fortunately, he didn't shout as he was prone to do, but his voice was still a little too loud for secrecy.

"Allow me to explain. And please whisper, Shippō," Miroku quickly admonished. "After you collapsed, I tucked you into my outer robe and we found a castle. The lord of this castle saw the you-shaped lump and assumed a few things and I quickly corroborated his story - only a fool turns down such a convenient gift from the kami. Anyways, the lord of this castle believes that you are the young child of myself and Sango, who are married and on a quest to defeat the dastardly Naraku to break the horrible curse on my family and avenge our fallen kin. I did not inform him of the Shikon Jewel shards. In conclusion, we really need you to go along with this, Shippō. Do you have enough magic to disguise yourself?"

"What?" Shippō blinked at him. Why did adults have to make everything so complicated? Was this all really necessary to secure them shelter from the storm, or was Miroku using this situation as some kind of wish fulfillment?

"This idiot-" Sango said, pointing at Miroku (although she didn't actually sound annoyed) - "has convinced the lord that I'm his wife and you're our child, so please disguise yourself as a two-year-old human boy."

"Why do I have to be two? I'm seven, you know!" Shippō whisper-yelled at them, puffing out his chest.

"Because you're smaller than human children," Sango replied.

"Fine." Shippō pouted and crossed his arms. After stewing for a few moments, he dug a leaf out of his jacket pocket and, placing it on his forehead, transformed into a younger human child.

When the maid servant opened the shoji doors, she found Miroku and Sango sitting next to each other, conversing quietly, with a small purple-eyed child in Sango's arms. Kirara dozed under one of the quilts. She awoke at the sound of the door sliding open and the smell of the food, but stayed hidden. Humans spooked easily. They all struggled to keep their eyes open as they ate. After they placed the stacked dishes outside the shoji doors, Miroku crawled under the blankets.

"My dearest Sango, won't you join me in the futon?" he said, holding up the quilts for her to crawl under.

Sango turned bright red. Of course, though she was loath to admit it, she had dreamed of this, as in had actual dreams about this very situation. Dreams that were unbecoming of a young lady. Sango liked him, she really did. Just maybe, if he wasn't always reaching for her rear, if he was affectionate in more appropriate ways, she could consider reciprocating and allowing their hearts to grow closer. And then, maybe… Sango quickly redirected her train of thought. This was going to be a very long night indeed.

"Why, Sango, whatever could you be thinking?" Miroku asked. He assumed it was maidenly bashfulness that caused her embarrassment, but he hoped that it was something more… "Do you think that I'm insinuating something?" he gasped, faking offense. "My only intention was for us all to be warm and comfortable on this horrible stormy night."

"That is very practical of you," Sango replied stiffly. It still felt as though he was insinuating something. Or maybe that was her own thoughts twisting the situation and he had been implying nothing of the sort. Or maybe he had; just as one could count on the sun to rise in the east, one could count on Miroku to be a perv.

"Yes, very practical." It was not an idea born entirely out of practicality or consideration, but neither was it one born out of perversion. He did wish to be near to her, for them to grow closer together. He wished for a future.

"Hey, what about me?" Shippō demanded, still disguised as a younger human child.

"I did say 'all of us,' didn't I? We wouldn't want you to freeze again, Shippō," Miroku smoothly steered the conversation out of dangerous waters.

Shippō leapt onto the futon and snuggled up next to Miroku. Sango blew out the candles, glad that the darkness hid her lingering embarrassment, and slipped under the quilts. Kirara trotted over and curled up by her mistress's head. Huddled on the futon, under the quilts together, Miroku called his dreams and wishes up to the forefront of his mind. He dreamed of having a family one day, free from curses. He dreamed of marrying Sango, of how they would have several children that would inherit their mother's strength and honor as well as his wit. With the present arrangement, it was almost as if they were a family with Shippō as the baby. Miroku looked over at Sango, her eyes closed and her breath deepening as she fell asleep. She was beautiful, strong, and - hopefully one day - his. He reached out and took her hand. She squeezed back.