Banished Divinity: Learning to be Human

The bus ride to school was a disaster.

Human Sera had not stopped talking since we left the house. She had narrated the entire journey—the street we turned on, the convenience store where she used to buy snacks, the tree that she had tried to climb when she was seven and had fallen out of, breaking her arm in two places.

"Mum screamed so loud," she said, floating beside me as the bus lurched forward. "I thought she was the one who was hurt. She grabbed me and ran all the way to the hospital. Dad came later with my shoes because Mum forgot them. She forgot my shoes. She ran three blocks carrying a seven-year-old with a broken arm, and she forgot my shoes."

"That seems unimportant compared to the broken arm," I said.

"That's what I said! But Mum cried about the shoes for weeks. She said she was a terrible mother. She said she should have remembered the shoes. She said—" Human Sera's voice caught. Her form flickered. "She said she would always remember the shoes next time. And she did. Every time after that, when anyone got hurt, she brought shoes. Mina got a paper cut once, and Mum showed up with sneakers. Sneakers, for a paper cut."

I looked at her. At the ghost who was laughing and crying at the same time, who was remembering her mother's love in the shape of forgotten shoes and broken arms and the fierce, unreasonable devotion that made humans do things that made no sense.

"She loves you," I said.

Human Sera wiped her face. "I know."

"She loves you, and she doesn't know you're gone."

"I know."

"And she might never know. Not really. Not the way you want her to."

Human Sera was quiet for a moment. Then she said, very softly, "I know."

We didn't speak for the rest of the ride.

---

The gates of the school loomed before me, the same gates I had stood before days ago, the same gates I had been unable to cross without being pushed. They were larger than I remembered. More imposing. The metal bars seemed to gleam in the morning light like the teeth of some great beast, waiting to swallow me whole.

I stood at the threshold. I did not move.

Human Sera ghostly form appeared beside me, her feet planted on the ground like she was trying to remember what it felt like to have weight. "What are you doing?"

"Looking," I said.

"For what?"

I scanned left. I scanned right. I scanned the courtyard beyond the gates, where students were streaming through, their bags on their shoulders, their faces turned toward the buildings that rose against the sky like monuments to human endurance.

"That Overeager Gate-Rammer," I said. "The one who pushed me. I am looking for him."

Human Sera stared at me. Then she laughed.

It was loud. Genuine. The kind of laugh that should have echoed off the gates—but, of course, it did nothing. To Human Sera, air was just… air, I suppose.

“You’re looking for Minjae?” she said. “You’re standing at the gate, refusing to move, because you’re looking for the boy who pushed you?”

"I am conducting a risk assessment," I said stiffly. "He pushed me once. He may push me again. A celestial being does not allow herself to be caught off guard."

"You're scared of him."

"I am not scared. I am—"

"You're scared he's going to push you again."

"I am prepared for him to push me again. There is a difference."

Human Sera was grinning now. Her whole face was alight with the kind of mischief that I was beginning to recognize as her default state. "You know, most people would be worried about getting pushed. You're worried about looking foolish in front of the boy who calls you a piglet."

"I do not care what he calls me."

"You called him Piglet."

"That is different. That is a strategic naming. It establishes dominance."

"It establishes that you think about him enough to give him a nickname."

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. Human Sera was still grinning, and I was suddenly, intensely aware that my face was doing something it should not be doing. Something warm. Something pink.

"I am not thinking about him," I said.

"You're blushing."

"I am not blushing. The sun is—"

"It's cloudy."

"The clouds are reflecting the sun. There is a phenomenon. It is—"

“Sera.”

Human Sera floated in front of me, blocking my view of the gate. Her face was inches from mine, her expression caught somewhere between amusement and something softer.

“Just cross the line. Please. It’s killing me. You’re standing at the gate like a deer in headlights, looking for a boy who called you a piglet—and you’re blushing. Just cross the damn line.”

I took a breath. I squared my shoulders. I lifted my chin.

I was a celestial being. I had faced tribunals.

I had faced demons. I had faced the void between worlds.

I could cross a line.

I could…

Something hit my back.

Not hard. Not the shove I had been bracing for. Just a presence. A hand pressing lightly against my spine enough to make me step forward.

But I did not stumble.

My feet planted. My knees bent. My balance held. I recovered before I had taken more than half a step, my body steady, my stance firm.

The audacity. Again. How dare he.

I turned.

---

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