Intro
This is a subsection for my Samurai Warriors/Sengoku Musou works! Largely focused on the SW3 and SW4 games, though each one will be marked to reflect which game it fits. Most of the stuff here will be Motochika/Mitsuhide, one-sided Hisahide/Mitsuhide and some Takatora/Yoshitsigu, though I do occasionally explore other things and make a little genfic.
WORKS
Motochika/Mitsuhide + Hisahide->Mitsuhide
Some years after the Battle of Yamazaki, through the machinations of fate or the sheer strength of their bond, Motochika finds a 'dead' man walking.
Either Mitsuhide was so unaware he'd never given name to what flowed between them, or Mitsuhide did not, in fact, love Motochika in the way Motochika had always been certain he did. Couldn't be true, but... two decades of ceaseless pining was enough. They'd lived good lives, there was nothing to regret, but it was also time to correct course.
Motochika listened intently as his new friend told stories, watched those slender fingers tap lightly against the table, quirked a smile at the quiet laugh and decided there and then that this was someone he couldn't let go of. Rebelling with kindness and compassion in the face of a world that sought to grind such people under the heel of a heavy foot? How could he possibly resist?.
Hisahide had everything he could ever want... except for the heart of the beauty that ignited passions both positive and negative in him. But it would surely be his with time! Right? Technically a follow-on from canon hundreds of years later, filled with an explosive kind of envy..
Takatora/Yoshitsugu
Even on that fateful day, when the ground had been scattered in crimson, Takatora hadn't seen so much of his dear friend's face... wait. What?.
Other
The truth was, however, that for all the treasures he possessed Hisahide was far from satisfied with his life. There was always something he didn't have but dearly wanted, a goal that laid just out of reach, or someone who got under his skin.
Somewhere someone screamed his name in distress; it was all somehow distant and faint except for her, though, a splash of colour on a muddy field of death and the only thing he could focus on.