Kaito's second near-death experience in his second life had earned him a title among the reef folk: **"The Unflushable One."** It wasn't flattering. It suggested that nature had tried to flush him twice—first via subway, now by barracuda—and failed both times. Still, in the twisted pecking order of the reef, survival was currency, and Kaito had just made his first accidental deposit.
"Two deaths and not even a scratch," Bub muttered, watching Kaito float upside down with mild trauma-induced grace. "At this point, I'm convinced you're cursed. Or extremely lucky. Or both."
"Do I have a say in it?" Kaito gurgled, still mastering the art of underwater vocalization.
"No," Bub said. "You're a character in a cruel cosmic sitcom."
Kaito drifted to an upright position, blinking both eyes separately—another fish adaptation he hated. "I thought death would give me clarity. Instead, I got floaty bowel control and roommates with emotional damage."
Bub tossed a pebble at him. "You're not a philosopher, Kaito. You're an orange noodle with anxiety. Embrace it."
A silence passed, filled only by the rumble of distant whale farts and the sound of Kevin the sea cucumber crying softly into a clamshell.
Then came the whisper.
A slick, oily voice oozed into the water like a rumor with teeth.
"Ohhh, there you are… Unflushable."
Murmur had arrived.
---
The moray eel slithered out from between two jagged rocks, his long body glinting with bioluminescent patterns that spelled the word "ICON" in a looping script. His teeth were polished. His scent was blood and expired perfume. Draped over one fin-like appendage was a kelp boa that shimmered like an oil spill.
"Still alive, I see," Murmur hissed, circling them. "I had a bet with a mackerel that you'd be sushi by sundown."
"Lost your money, freak," Bub snapped.
"Money?" Murmur chuckled. "Darling, we don't use money here. We trade in secrets, shame, and shrimp tears." He turned to Kaito, grinning like a villain in a Broadway musical. "And you, darling, are rich in all three."
Kaito tried to puff himself up, only to inflate his swim bladder and rise several inches involuntarily.
"Smooth," Murmur purred.
"Why are you here?" Bub asked. "Other than to spread fashion-based trauma?"
"I'm inviting him," said Murmur, draping his boa across Kaito's shoulders, "to the **Elegance of Terror.**"
"The what now?" Kaito bubbled.
"A bioluminescent gala-slash-mauling," Murmur explained. "Once every moon cycle, predators and prey gather to dance, dine, and maybe devour. It's the reef's biggest event. Survival is optional. Fashion is mandatory."
"That sounds like death with extra sequins," Bub muttered.
"It is!" Murmur grinned.
---
By the time Murmur vanished in a whirl of glittery sand and malicious intent, Kaito had a new fear to add to his collection: being eaten while underdressed.
"You're not seriously going," Bub said.
"I think I have to," Kaito replied, gills flaring. "I mean, if I'm going to die again, might as well look good doing it."
Bub sighed. "You're not brave. You're dumb and dressed in bright orange. Fine. But if you die, I'm not attending your kelp funeral. Again."
---
### **Montage: Makeover in the Abyss**
Cue a training montage that should've been set to an 80s power ballad. Bub dragged Kaito through:
* A volcano spa run by snails with attitude.
* A kelp barber who styled him using electric eels.
* A meditation pool where fish screamed their fears into bubble traps.
Kaito was scrubbed, shocked, screamed at, and finally released in a cloud of glittery sand.
When he emerged, he shimmered with reluctant dignity. His scales had been polished to an almost narcissistic gleam. He wore a ribbon of red algae around his tail like a slapdash sash. He looked like a prom king who took a wrong turn into the Mariana Trench.
Bub blinked. "Okay. You somehow look less edible. Let's roll."
---
### **The Elegance of Terror**
Held in the Sunken Ballroom—formerly the wreckage of a cruise ship where a human wedding went terribly wrong—the Elegance of Terror was every bit as insane as advertised.
Jellyfish lights floated from the ceiling. Octopi bartenders mixed drinks with eight arms of flair. Swordfish fenced dramatically on the buffet table. Crabs tangoed. Piranhas giggled. Everyone sparkled and swam with deadly grace.
Kaito entered. And immediately swam into a pufferfish wearing a monocle.
"Excuse me," Kaito said.
The pufferfish exploded into puff-mode. "EXCUSED."
Bub dragged him away.
"You're going to get murdered by manners," he hissed.
Then Murmur appeared on stage, spinning in a spiral of flash and menace.
"Creatures of glamour and gore! Welcome to terror's runway! Who will survive the night? Who will be remembered in song and/or stomach acid?"
A cheer erupted. Kaito trembled.
---
The games began.
The first event: **"Sashay or Slay."** Contestants had to strut across a line of sea urchins while being judged on flair. Kaito flopped, panicked, and somehow did a backflip over the final urchin.
Score: 9.5.
Second event: **"Dance with Death."** A shark would pick a partner. Kaito was chosen by a hammerhead named Doris who had a thing for clumsy prey.
"I like your… fins," she growled.
"I like your… blunt force trauma aura," Kaito stammered.
They danced. She spun him like a ragdoll. At one point, he passed out.
Applause.
Final event: **"Hide and Shriek."**
All lights went out. Predators hunted prey. The ballroom became a swirling chaos of bubbles, laughter, and death.
Kaito hid in a clam.
"Not again," the clam muttered.
He was found by Murmur.
"Surprise," the eel sang.
Kaito braced for death.
Then… something happened.
Murmur paused.
"You smell… different," he said.
Kaito blinked. "Is that a good thing?"
"It's terrifying," Murmur whispered. "You reek of… narrative purpose."
He slithered away.
Kaito fainted.
---
### **Aftermath**
Kaito survived.
Again.
The reef buzzed. Whispers spread. He was either lucky, cursed, blessed, or part of an ancient prophecy about a fish who would unite the reef by sheer stupidity.
Bub slapped him awake.
"You're a legend now," the shrimp said flatly.
"I just hid in a clam," Kaito mumbled.
"Exactly."
As they swam home, stars twinkled above the water.
A deep voice echoed from the trench.
"Swim carefully, Unflushable. The sea watches."
It was Thren. Or a hallucination. Hard to tell.
Back at the coral condo, Kaito lay on his algae bed, staring up.
He was still here.
Still un-eaten.
Still very, very confused.
And somewhere inside him, something ancient stirred.
Not wisdom. Not courage.
Just the unsettling knowledge that his story wasn't over.
Not by a long shot.