"Growing Together" follows my previous fiction, "God's Reward." However, it is not necessary to have read the prequel to follow this one.

Growing Together: Chapter 1

Rated M 16+ for strong language and mature topics.

•°•°•°•

"Shindou. What. Are. You. Doing?"

Hikaru looked up, puzzled. "I'm making a volcano."

Touya twitched, then closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"On my kitchen table?"

Hikaru blinked, bits of plaster dripping off of his hands and onto the wet mound of newspaper and wire on the table.

He smiled smugly. "Our kitchen table."

That was pretty much what it was like living together.

"Yeah, " Hikaru said into the phone as he scrubbed plaster off of his hands. "I knew I was in trouble when he called me by my last name, but I didn't shut up in time." He scrunched his face in determination as he scrubbed murderously at the bits stuck in his calluses and fingernails.

"So are you going to make nice before or after our game?" Isumi said from the other end.

"Oh God, after. He has a game with Ogata, then he will go hide at his mother's place, and I'll have to go over there and convince him that coming back to our apartment won't kill him."

"Won't it?" Isumi asked, almost too honestly.

Hikaru frowned at Isumi's disloyalty, but replied, "Not as long as I don't cook."

Shindou Hikaru (Honinbou) and Touya Akira (Meijin II, Judan) were both go title holders at the ripe age of 19. They had been rivals in the game since the age of 12. The circumstances for the consummation of their rivalry were quite out of the ordinary, for sure, but they had grown to be good friends because of it. After Akira's father died, they had become indispensable pillars of support for one another.

It made sense at the time when they turned 18 for them to move in together. Akira's mother would move back in with her family, having no other children to raise, and while Hikaru's relationship with his parents had dramatically improved since Akira came into his life, he was still the type that could not wait to break out onto his own.

Since they were both Pros, they had enough money for a pretty comfortable apartment. And in truth, what seemed like a good idea was a good idea, for both of them, professionally and emotionally. But Hikaru did seem to have created a sport of driving Akira absolutely insane.

Hikaru's afternoon game with Isumi Shinichirou was a good one. Isumi, while essentially lagging slightly behind Hikaru in skill, was good at critically challenging himself, and had risen to 3 dan. Hikaru was now 6 dan and rising, but he understood that he too was once a 3-dan– in fact, that was the level he was at when he miraculously won the Honinbou title– and never underestimated him. He respected Isumi, and he was not only a good challenger, but a valuable friend.

Hikaru trounced him, for sure, but it was a good game. They were discussing it, afterward, when Waya came home.

Waya flopped his bag on the floor and sighed.

"Oh my God, Shinichirou, Ochi is such a bitch!"

"Hey Waya," Hikaru called.

"Oh, Shindou! You're here," he responded, kicking off his shoes and stumbling into the sitting room.

"Did you beat him?" Isumi asked, cooly.

"Beat? Oh, no, I wasn't playing him today. I played Abe-sensei today. But Ochi was still being a bitch."

Waya went into the kitchen, stretching his arms.

"Shin-chaaaan, did you make lunch?" he called, sweetly.

Isumi's eyebrow twitched. "No, Yoshitaka. I've been playing. There's leftover fried rice in the fridge. You can heat that up."

Hikaru observed that while Waya used Isumi's first name when he wanted something, Isumi used it the same way Akira used Hikaru's last name. Exasperatedly.

They resumed their game discussion, and when finished, they moved up to the couch before Waya returned with his lunch.

"So what did Ochi do to be a bitch?" Hikaru asked.

"Ah," Waya said, pausing blow a pile of steaming rice, "He does this thing lately," another pause to shovel said rice in his mouth, "Where he makes these snide, passive-agressive, post-game remarks about my sexual orientation. In public."

"Shit," Hikaru said. "Isn't he, like ten? How does he know that anyway? You only told a couple of people."

"We didn't tell him," Isumi took over, preventing Waya from continuing to talk with a mouth full of rice, "But he is extraordinarily observant."

"Yeah," Hikaru said. "Akira told me about how quickly Ochi learned he was being used to gage my strength in the pro exam. Kid is scary."

"So he says," Waya continued, "I noticed you beat Abe-sensei today. I was surprised, considering how much you enjoy- ahem- being beneath older men."

"Fuck hiiiiiiim!" Hikaru shouted.

"That's not even true," Isumi mused to himself, quietly.

"Dude," Hikaru sneered. "Too. Much. Info."

•°•°•°•

Hikaru rang the doorbell at Akira's mother's family's home. He was used to this system, but also kind of grumpy because this place was about 45 minutes away. Despite this, he was not deterred from making the stupid decisions that landed him here about twice a week. In the end, if he didn't bring Akira back to the apartment, it would fall into ruin almost immediately.

The door opened.

"Ah, Shindou-kun," Akira's mother said, "Please come in."

"Thanks. You're looking well, Akiko-san," he lied.

Akira's mother had lost a lot of weight and beauty after her husband died. She had certainly become much more comfortable after she moved out her empty home and into her family's, but she remained looking deathly thin.

"Thank you, Shindou-kun," she replied.

"What do you want, Shindou?" Akira said as Hikaru walked in to the livingroom. He sat on the couch with a flop and picked up the TV remote.

"Oh, not much. Just thought I'd come over and watch the game with your mom. So what are you doing here?"

On cue, Akira cracked a smile, remembering why he bothered to put up with Hikaru in the first place.

Hikaru grinned in return, with great relief, as it usually took three or four tries before he got Akira's irritation to crack.

"I hate you, Shindou," Akira lied through his smile.

"You too, jerk," Hikaru said, turning on the television.

They ate dinner with the family and promptly left afterwards. Akira's mother asked them to stay for tea, but Akira said no, he had to get home and study his game. Hikaru noticed, as they left, that Akira had not brought his overnight bag, as he was wont to do when Hikaru chased him out of the house. Had he planned on staying at all?

Hikaru wondered how long this would go on– the teasing, nagging, chasing. He hoped forever.

They got to the train platform just in time to get on, and managed to find seats because dinner had kept them past rush hour. As they settled in, and the train began moving, Hikaru looked at Akira. As he had gotten older, Akira had grown both stronger and more elegant- almost regal. He held himself with such composure that he was almost like a noble prince from a fairytale. As the train chugged on into the fading red evening light, he thought to himself, "I am so honored to be his rival. And his friend." But when he went to speak, all that came out was, "Why do we do this?"

And Akira turned, with every ounce of that elegant grace as ever, and replied, "Why do you make plaster science projects in our kitchen?"

Hikaru ached. There was no malice in Akira's reply, only a familiar rapport that was like a cruel language only they shared. Hikaru wanted to tell Akira that at this moment, he felt like Akira was the most amazing person in the world. The sunset did beautiful things to Akira's skin, Akira's eyes. He was trapped in a moment of beauty and peace. But how do you say something like that to your best friend without sounding wierd, or pathetic? It wasn't really Hikaru's style to fawn over his male rival.

So in the end, he smiled, and said, "Because the internet told me to."

•°•°•°•

End of chapter one.

Chapter two: Akira changes the routine on Hikaru, who can barely keep up. Hikaru will had to make some life adjustments if he wants Akira to stay in his life.