The Girl Who Fell Beneath the Sea by Axie Oh

“What’s wrong with Fox House?”
    â€œYou’re a human,” Namgi says, rather unhelpfully.
    â€œAnd?”
    Namgi’s grin could light a candle. “ Th e head of Fox House is a demon.”

 
11
    Two boats depart from Lotus House, one carrying Shin, Namgi, and myself, the other Kirin and three fierce-looking women, garbed in the red-and-white robes of priestesses.
    Already the news of what happened at Lotus House seems to have spread throughout the city. We pass by boats traveling in the opposite direction. Upon catching sight of Shin, their occupants ask if the rumors are true, if he truly is to marry a human girl. And a Sea God’s bride, no less!
    Shin ignores them, closing his eyes as he leans against the prow of the boat. Instead, it’s Namgi who answers by lifting one oar. “Lotus House has a lady at last!” he shouts. A cheer goes up.
    No one pays me any attention, likely mistaking me for a servant.
    â€œAre the people of the city always so interested in the affairs of the houses?” I ask, watching Namgi struggle to navigate a tight bend in the canal.
    He only answers after finally managing to regain our course. “For spirits, when days often seem to blend together, any smallchange riles them up. Th at’s why the arrival of the Sea God’s bride is such a momentous occasion, an excuse as good as any for a celebration.”
    Earlier, when I walked through the city with Mask, Dai, and Miki, it seemed like the city was in a festive mood, what with all the people out on the streets, the many lanterns, food, and fireworks. Even in Lotus House it was a party.
    Not like at home. Is this why the gods have abandoned us? Do they not care about the hardships of the human world because the Spirit Realm suffers no consequences?
    And what of the spirits themselves, don’t they remember what it was like to be human? Don’t they worry for those they’ve left behind? Or do their memories, as Namgi implied, grow distant and hazy with time spent here in the Spirit Realm?
    Outside a grand teahouse built over the canal, a crowd gathers, jostling one another to get a glimpse of our boat. I can’t be sure, but I think I see a boy with thick hair slip through the crowd, an infant strapped to his back.
    â€œIt’s true that the affairs of certain houses interest the spirits more than others,” Namgi continues blithely. “In the Sea God’s city, there are eight great houses, all of which serve the Sea God. Shin is the head of the most powerful house, the one that all the others look to for guidance and order. While houses like Spirit House protect the interests of spirits, and Tiger and Crane, soldiers and scholars, respectively, Lotus House protects the interests of the gods.”
    â€œAnd the gods protect humans,” I say.
    I know I’ve caught Shin’s attention when he slowly sits up, watching me closely. Th e boat dips in the water, and I grip the seat, bracing my feet on the wooden boards.
    Perhaps I shouldn’t anger him. Our alliance—if I can even call it that—is tentative at best. But the sounds of merrymaking now grate upon my ears, raucous laughter and out-of-tune singing, and cutting through it all a loud and clear sound—the peal of a chime.
    Th e boat rocks, bringing our bodies closer.
    â€œDo you deny it, then,” I ask, “that gods are meant to protect humans?”
    â€œI do deny it.” Shin’s voice is low, his words as merciless and cruel as they were in the Sea God’s hall. “Humans are fickle, violent creatures. Because they fear their own deaths, they are driven to war, scouring from the earth in seconds that which takes years to grow.”
    â€œOnly because death shadows them closely,” I retort. “Can you blame them, when death has no patience, slipping into their homes and stealing the breath from their children?”
    â€œI can blame them,” he says,