Nori was a small seahorse who lived in the reef, where the water was warm and tasted faintly of salt and something green. Nori's tail was the most wonderful thing in all that water — it shimmered through every colour of the rainbow, violet to red, slow as a turning wheel.
Tonight, Nori rested near a tall sea fan, letting the gentle current rock them back and forth. That was when Nori noticed. The violet at the tip of the tail — the deep, quiet purple — was simply gone. In its place: grey. Plain, still grey.
*One colour at a time. One colour at a time.* Nori turned slowly in the water, trying to understand.
By the time Nori had swum past the anemone beds, indigo had gone too. Then blue began to pale, like a breath fogging cold glass. Nori's tail, which had always made the fish stop and stare, was going quiet.
Nori moved carefully through the reef, following the path back. The sand below was rippled and fine, and Nori's shadow moved across it in a long, wavering stripe. That was when the bleached coral came into view.
It stretched out in a long pale curve — no pink, no orange, no red. Just white, the colour of a shell left too long in the sun. The water here was very still, as though even the current was being polite.
And there was a tiny crab, waving both claws as hard as he could.
He was waving at a passing fish — a round, yellow, bewildered fish — who tilted one eye at the crab, decided this was not its problem, and swam away. The crab made a sound like a very small huff.
"Are you Dex?" Nori asked. The crab startled, then nodded so fast his whole body shook.
Dex pointed one claw at the coral. Then at Nori's tail. Then at the coral again. He mimed something swimming through slowly — one careful claw-step at a time. *One colour at a time. One colour at a time.*
Nori took a long, slow breath, and turned to face the pale coral.
Swimming slowly was harder than it sounded. The current wanted to push. But Nori tucked the tail close and moved through the coral the way you move through tall grass — gently, without hurrying. The first bloom opened near Nori's fin: a deep, spreading violet, like ink dropped into still water.
Then indigo. The coral drank it in, and a cluster of branches flushed dark and rich. *One colour at a time. One colour at a time.* Blue came next, rolling through like a wave, and the coral swayed with something that looked almost like relief.
Green. Yellow. Orange. Red. Each one bloomed back into Nori's tail at the very same moment it bloomed into the coral — brighter than before, as though both of them had been holding their breath and could finally let go.
Dex stood very still, watching. One small claw rested against his shell.
When it was done, the whole reef hummed. Not loudly — just the way a room hums when everyone in it is finally comfortable. Nori found a soft hollow in the sea-grass, tucked the glowing tail close, and settled. Dex climbed up onto a nearby stone and folded himself small. The water went still. The colours held.
