In which a headcanon musing from a friend on tumblr inspired this hastily written response. It's not my best, it's scattered and disjointed but I'm oddly content with this. First posted on tumblr then reposted here.
Disclaimer: I do not own Sengoku Basara. This interpretation of Kojiro, Masamune's historical younger brother is entirely mine. All mistakes are mine.
Summary: Kojiro's last thoughts as Masamune cuts him down.
The sword was buried in his gut before Kojiro had a chance to register what was going on. His vision tunneled, going dark even as he focused on the hand that had killed him too suddenly, too soon.
One fierce blue eye shined brightly in the darkness that clouded his vision.
Masamune. Brother.
Distantly, he heard the screaming of his mother but neither brother paid it much heed.
Kojiro reached out one weak hand. He was crying.
Masamune watched him, expressionless.
It wasn't supposed to end like this. All his life he had looked up to this man, no matter the distance that had been forced between them. His blood, his brother. The man that would inherit the Date Clan. The one that would bring their Clan to new heights. His brother would be a part of their country's history, had already made a name for himself.
All Kojiro had ever wanted was to be there. How many hours had he spent practicing the art of the sword so that he could fight at his brother's side? How many hours had he spent in the midst of their generals' meetings so that one day, he would be able to lead his brother's troops into the battlefield?
How much time had he spent just wishing that his brother would notice him? Notice how much Kojiro loved him?
Why wasn't he angry? His own hero had ended his life when all he had ever wanted was to lose it in his service. His own kin had ended his life…
But no…
Even as his hand weakly dropped, his eyes grew dull and the pool of blood around him spread, he couldn't bring himself to hate his brother. He grasped at reason, foolhardy reason.
But was no one's fool.
He knew their mother had had plans, that she somehow found her first born lacking, unworthy and that she wanted her second born to rule in his stead. Somehow, he just knew that the abrupt end to his life was somehow connected to this.
Perhaps…
No, he knew. His mother, beautiful, monstrous and infinitely cruel had finally pushed her oldest son over the edge. And in return for whatever endeavor that had so enraged him, Masamune took away the only tool she had left to fight with.
Date Kojiro, second-born and the apple of their mother's eye.
Kojiro could do no wrong in his mother's eyes. Except he existed, which, he realized was the whole problem. So long as he existed, so long as his mother continued to view him as a tool for power, Masamune would never love him, would never acknowledge him as anything more than a threat.
His mother may have pushed Masamune over the edge, but Kojiro distantly wondered how long his brother had actually been thinking about getting rid of him.
He hated his mother. He would curse her from the grave. He hoped she lived long enough to see the son she had discarded soar to heights she had never even dreamed possible. He hoped fervently that she lived long enough to regret ever having doubted his brother, that she grew to hate herself for fate she had brought down on her children.
He stopped breathing. His heart stopped.
As he died, the last thing he saw was something shattering in his brother's eye. A lone tear.
His last thought, his last prayer was that the blood spilt this day would see his brother through to the end, that this forced sacrifice had obliterated every doubt in his mind.
His brother would soar, and he would be the wind in his wings.