The Unlikely Pair
The evening sun cast long, golden rays across the small apartment as Sammi curled up on the couch, nursing a cup of tea. Outside, the city hummed with distant car horns and the laughter of pedestrians below. Eriko sat beside her, her legs tucked under her, an old, weathered book resting in her lap.
For a while, they were quiet, both caught in the warm comfort of familiarity. Then, Sammi chuckled softly to herself.
“What?” Eriko asked, glancing at her over the top of her book.
Sammi grinned, taking a sip of her tea. “I was just thinking… If someone had told us back then that we’d end up here—living together, sharing a life—I think we would have laughed in their face.”
Eriko smirked. “You would have laughed. I would have looked at them, said ‘Unlikely,’ and gone back to my book.”
Sammi nudged her playfully. “That’s fair. We really were the most unlikely pair of friends at Donegal Academy.”
At the name alone, the memories came flooding back.
The Donegal Academy – Orphans’ Home Division
There was no more unlikely pair of friends than Sammi and Eriko.
Sammi—plump, red-haired, and full of boundless energy—lived for the outdoors. Every free moment, she was running through the woods beyond the academy’s stone walls, talking and dancing with imaginary companions, weaving stories into the crisp Donegal air. She built kingdoms out of fallen logs, declared herself queen of the forest, and engaged in dramatic duels against enemies that only she could see.
Eriko, on the other hand, was small, quiet, and always studious. She preferred the company of books to people, often curling up in one of the great bay window nooks in the old academy library. From there, she could see the edge of the woods through the glass, where Sammi would return from her latest adventure, twirling in the autumn leaves, laughing at jokes only she understood.
At first, Eriko found Sammi ridiculous.
Why waste time running through the cold when there were so many stories to be read? The forest wasn’t an enchanted kingdom, it was just trees and damp moss. Sammi was loud, reckless, and constantly bruised from climbing things she shouldn’t.
But Sammi found Eriko ridiculous, too.
Why sit inside when the whole world was right there? Books were fine, sure, but had Eriko ever actually tried being the hero instead of reading about one? Didn’t she ever wonder what it would be like to wield a sword, to outwit a dragon, to walk among spirits?
And yet, despite their differences, they kept crossing paths.
Eriko would sit in her window nook, watching Sammi return from the woods, dancing and singing, her boots muddied and her hair filled with twigs. She’d shake her head but couldn’t quite look away.
Sammi, meanwhile, would sometimes pause in her storytelling when she caught a glimpse of Eriko bathed in the golden glow of the library window, nose buried in a massive tome, utterly still except for the occasional turn of a page. And she’d wonder, What could possibly be so interesting in those books that she never wanted to come outside?
The Moment It Changed
One winter evening, the power had gone out in the academy. The storm outside rattled the windows, and without lights, there was little to do except talk.
Sammi had wandered into the library—rare for her—and found Eriko alone in the bay window, staring out at the swirling snow.
“You look like a ghost,” Sammi had said bluntly.
Eriko didn’t even flinch. “You look like a stray dog that forgot to come in from the cold.”
Sammi grinned. She sat down—right on the floor, completely ignoring the elegant chairs nearby. “What are you reading?”
Eriko hesitated, then sighed. “A translation of an old Persian epic.”
Sammi cocked her head. “Ooooh, is it about warriors and monsters?”
Eriko raised an eyebrow. “…Yes.”
Sammi grinned wider. “Tell me about it.”
Eriko hesitated again, then—for the first time—began to talk.
She told Sammi of the ancient hero Rostam, of enchanted horses, of tragic battles. And to her surprise, Sammi listened intently, eyes wide with wonder. She even gasped at the right moments.
And when Eriko finished, Sammi sat back and nodded sagely.
“Okay,” she said. “That was actually awesome.”
Eriko smirked. “I know.”
Sammi stretched. “But, see, now that you’ve told me a story… you have to come outside and live one.”
Eriko groaned. “I knew you were going to say that.”
But the next afternoon, wrapped in her thickest coat, Eriko stepped into the forest for the first time since arriving at Donegal.
Sammi whooped in triumph. “You made it! Okay, okay, today’s adventure—we’re on a quest to find the lost kingdom of frost.”
Eriko rolled her eyes. “Sammi, this is just the back woods.”
Sammi gasped in mock horror. “Just the—? Eriko, the kingdom will never reveal itself to a nonbeliever!”
And against her better judgment, Eriko laughed.
From that day on, they were inseparable.
Back in the Present
Sammi smiled at the memory, stirring her tea absently. “You know, that first time you came out with me, I really thought you’d hate it.”
Eriko closed her book and looked at her with a soft, knowing smile. “I didn’t go out there for the forest, Sammi.”
Sammi turned, tilting her head. “Then why?”
Eriko took a slow sip of her tea before answering.
“…Because you asked me to.”
A warmth spread in Sammi’s chest, soft and golden. She reached for Eriko’s hand, lacing their fingers together.
“You know,” Sammi murmured, “you were always the hero in our story.”
Eriko squeezed her hand, eyes glinting with quiet affection. “And you were always the storyteller.”
Outside, the city continued its quiet song.
But inside, the unlikely pair remained as they had always been—two souls dancing between worlds, together.
