Sora didn't really sign up for this.

He DID, however, sign up for joining the enemy's crowd. He listened to the letter they gave him and the proposal they offered. One light- a willing light to snuff out quicker than a candle -in exchange for postponing the Keyblade War until the de facto leader of the seven lights made the first approach to the thirteen of darkness. Sora felt it was a worthy cause, giving the others the best chance they could to prepare for the upper hand. Especially with all the crazy, out of nowhere ambushes the true Organization XIII had been pulling. It was an offer of reprieve, and the sacrifice for that he decided was himself.

Sora signed up for the chill of waiting at the meet up location and knowing that he would only see his friends again as their foe. He signed up for being dragged away into the shadows with no goodbye to the light. He signed up to be the the one on the altar, the one to get one step closer to dead. The thought of it being anyone else was unbearable. Besides, they had already tried to get him, so him being a new pawn to play with wasn't out of their reach.

Sora signed up for the terror of losing himself. The sensation of a whole new heart entering his by force with none of the kindness of the others long gone. Letting it roll in like an ice cube down his shirt that, instead of innocuously leaving, became a freezing brand of defeat. He signed up for the bitter fire that was suddenly stoked in his heart, taking his rage and amplifying it to such heights that he had never felt them before. He signed up for the cold cloak that clung to his skin like fingers grabbing him and caging him and saying "you're mine now."

What he absolutely DID NOT expect was almost drowning today.

It started with a small invitation. A request to be truly initiated when he really wanted to be alone. He was stupid enough to listen. Stupid enough to walk down the hall and into the dim room flanked by black cloaks and jeering faces. Stupid enough to approach the small basin the old Master stood in front of, the only thing properly lit in the room with water that let the harsh light bounce into his eyes. Stupid enough to think that now that he was a vessel he was invincible.

His head had been grabbed by the old, gnarled hand that felt like a crown of spikes forced into his head. He was shoved into the embrace of cold water what felt like an eternity ago. He hadn't been let up for air at all, and the closest to it he had gotten was exposing his wet ear to the cold above. The bubbles that came out of his muffled and screaming mouth were black and spinning. The words above the surface were callous and undisturbed by the froth and waves as Sora thrashed and struggled. His hands went from flailing, demanding to be freed, to pinned by larger, stronger ones.

Sora could barely think. He could barely see. The bubbles has become less frequent, trickling away as water filled his mouth and lungs with eagerness-

The gasps and coughs Sora made when yanked back by his hair were desperate. Water streamed out of his nose only to drip into his mouth and start another round of coughing. He couldn't help but throw water back up, and it tasted vaguely sour. He couldn't even effectively get it all out with his head forced to look up. He couldn't even hear what Master Xehanort was even saying with the small stream still coming out of his ears. Worst of all, he was still choking for most intents and purposes.

No one let him go. If he could only say one thing it would be a demand to let him go. Let him double over and have the liquid come up as vomit, the disgrace and shame didn't matter. He wanted to breathe again more than anything.

Those cold golden eyes locked with his. Judging him, analyzing him, determining if this runt was worth keeping. Sora coughed a little more, then croaked, "What... W-what was that for?!"

His two "bodyguards" laughed. Sora could feel their hands shaking with laughter on his arms. He glanced to see it was Xigbar and Xemnas who held him prisoner. Master Xehanort was smirking at Sora's audacity.

"Well, child," Xehanort said, "is it not obvious?"

Sora winced when Xehanort once again pulled him around by his hair. This was surely just to gauge his reaction, a taunting gesture. The boy's face dropped all sense of bravery when forced toward the water again, and this time Xehanort let up enough for their forces to equate to Sora's nose skimming the water.

Sora spoke through gritted teeth, "No. I-illuminate for me."

He made a small, fearful grunt when Xehanort pushed him closer to the surface and said, "I do believe you used that word wrong." Sora's nose was buried in water, and through some miracle his mouth could struggle in a few gasps for breath.

"S-so what?!" Sora sputtered, "I-I" he coughed, "I don't know what this is for!"

The sopping wet head was pulled back up. Sora made some kind of sneeze, and his nostrils burned. He hated the drippy nose, feeling like a helpless child. It was a too painful reminder.

Xehanort very carefully answered him, "Think of this stress relief for us."

"We're letting go of a lot of things, just for you." Xigbar chimed in. He squeezed Sora's cheeks and caused his lips to purse, "This is a way for us to be reassured that you're not gonna do any funny business, and so we can get that nice, special moment we've always wanted you to have."

Xemnas put it in a less enigmatic manner, "With you at our side, we have no way to enact our revenge, and so this is to make up for that."

Sora's head was yanked back to looking at Master Xehanort. "Consider this a baptism, child." He explained, "The hero of the Keyblade, the fledgling Master, and the boy loved by all, Sora, is dead. This is a new, wonderful start for you."

And with those words Sora was plunged again into the water. He bubbled, and gasped, and screamed all kinds of protest and outrage and helpless despair. He ran out of oxygen even faster. His lungs withered. He could see shadows, then brown edges, then black as his eyes rolled back into the bliss of unconsciousness.

"We welcome our thirteenth today," Xehanort said as Sora's body stilled. He pulled him out before he truly drowned, and the three that held the boy let him go to fall to the ground in a crumpled heap.

"We welcome him warmly."

Inspired by slingbees on tumblr! it was a painting of Sora being drowned by Xehanort for and ask blog and the thing wrote itself from there.