Hello! I've recently discovered this fantastic account and I love your writing, it's so beautiful :) pardon me if this isn't a proper way to ask for a fanfic but if you're taking DateSana requests may I ask for what would Masamune do if Yukimura get abducted and (to make it worse) if the kidnappers were people working under Masamune's mother? I read they didn't get along and had a serious fight so I thought what if she wants to ruin his source of happiness torture and maybe end it as well.
To Anon: Sorry this is late, like really late, real world stuff and all. Sorry if this isn’t very good, but I just want to let you know that I seriously appreciate your compliments. They make me smile! Hope you enjoy this.
It was only Kojuro’s solid frame blockading the door that stopped Masamune from going and putting a bullet in his mother’s skull. His mouth was moving, saying something reasonable, calm and collected most likely, but Masamune couldn’t hear over his heart pounding like a warm drum in his ears, against his sternum. He didn’t want reasonable anyway; he wanted to go, find his mother and put his fist through her heart because she took Yukimura.
“What she did,” Masamune growled, interrupting Kojuro’s monologue, “she deserves this.” His fist twitched. His tongue burned on the acid those words left behind. He felt Kojuro’s eyes on him and his glare sharpened.
“Masamune-sama.” A steady hand clasped his shaking shoulder and the concern and lack of judgement in his voice were enough to have all of Masamune’s rage implode.
He looked down at the red ribbon tied around his wrist. Fingers ghosted over the drops of rusty red puncturing the crimson like rot and mentally sighed. Kojuro was right, whatever he said. Careful, he needed to be careful. This wasn’t some small time punk who wanted fame- this was Mogami Yoshihime: princess of the Mogami Syndicate, the Iron Lady, and as everyone knew, the real brains behind the Mogami operation. His fingers moved from the headband to gloss over the heavy leather of his eyepatch, a reminder of what his mother could, and would, do if she deemed it necessary.
Looking back up at Kojuro, Masamune felt something shift. The explosive rage cooled into something sharper, focused—a knife instead of a bomb, lightning and not an inferno. Kojuro straightened.
“We’re going to get him back. Now.” Kojuro stepped away from the door.
Masamune would get Yukimura back. If he was hurt…if that bitch laid a single finger on him just to try and ruin him. Well, he already killed the parent he loved; killing one he hated wouldn’t be difficult at all.