It was happening again for the third time that week. Izumi couldn't help but sigh when he opened his eyes to that familiar scene once again.
That same bleak sky that he always woke up to. The field of blood-red roses with black horned stalks that stretched out into the horizon.
Large black spikes the size of pillars were planted every few feet. All the spikes shared one common trait. Their ends were large and circular, with sharp protrusions sticking out from the sides of the circle, almost resembling the sun.
From these circular structures, large black chains hung, connecting one spike to the other and painting the view with a torturous image.
His arms were shackled and chained by those very same chains, though the ones that bound him sank into the ground alongside the dark thorned stalks of the roses by his feet.
He rose to his feet as he always did and turned to his right side.
There he stood.
A man dressed in dark robes that fluttered as if they were alive.
You couldn't tell where the robe ended and where his body began, with there only being two openings for his palms. Beside him, encircled by those large spikes as if they were altars, were two large infernos of crimson red and sapphire blue.
Izumi took a step toward him, the chains connected to the shackles on his arms dangling as if weary.
They stood there, gazes locked onto each other, not a word being said.
This is how it always was.
Every few nights he would wake in this strange place and stand staring at this man silently until dawn woke him.
There was something about him. Something calming, something familiar, as if he had known him all his life.
But if that was true, then why didn't he ever say anything to him?
After two months of this repeated cycle, he had had enough.
He looked over at the two infernos, then back at him before finally saying, "Who are you?"
His voice echoed with an unnatural fervour that he didn't think possible in such an open space, but of course the man didn't answer.
"It's the same damn thing every time," he continued. "You drag me in here but just stare at me, never saying anything."
His eyes darted to the infernos.
"All three of you."
"So you are aware of them as well," the man replied, his voice low but audible.
"So you can talk," Izumi replied.
"Did we ever imply that we couldn't?" he replied.
"Then answer me," Izumi shot back. "I have so many questions."
"Why have you chained me up like this?" he continued. "Why has this place changed so much since I first came here?"
"I don't know what you want, but I'm tired of waiting while you torture my dreams like this. So answer me!" he said, losing his composure.
"This is more than you've ever spoken to us," the man replied calmly. "Was it really suffocation that drove you to finally speak?"
"Just answer me, damn it!" he yelled as he threw his arms out, the chains on them dangling wildly.
"You asked where you are. I find it hard to believe that you couldn't have figured it out already," the man said.
"This is a dreamscape, the interstice between the physical and spirit worlds, and our own has taken this form," he continued.
"Then where did these chains come from, and why can't I get them off no matter how hard I try?" Izumi asked, calmer now.
"This atmosphere, these spikes, and those chains are a reflection of your heart," he replied. "We have no say in them, but you can take them off whenever you want."
"But I can't."
"You mean you won't," a voice shot from the crimson inferno.
"So you can talk too," Izumi said, turning his head toward it.
"We all can," another voice said from the opposite side.
"Then who are you all?" Izumi asked.
"We all once had names of our own and lives that we once lived," the man replied, "but all that is left of us is our will pressing on in the form of our spirits."
"That will has made us one," the crimson inferno called out.
"And it calls onto you and bonds you to us," the sapphire inferno continued.
"Through the Ikkion Blade," the man added.
"Izumi Yamada!" all three voices said in unison.
"But we don't know why," the man continued alone.
"You talk as if you know me," Izumi said softly, unable to process what he was witnessing.
"We've been watching you for a long time," the crimson inferno replied, "so we're sure that we do."
"You never could," Izumi replied in a harsh tone. "You can never know who I really am just from watching me. You can never understand."
"You can never know the mistakes I've made," he said, clenching his fist, "or the ones I hurt because of them."
"But we want to," the man replied.
Izumi turned to him with a shocked expression as he watched him walk closer.
"Whatever drew us to you," the sapphire inferno said, "we want to reach it."
"And we need to help you so that we can," the crimson inferno continued.
The man drew closer, and Izumi slipped and fell to the ground as he tried to back away.
Once he looked up, the man was already towering above him, the soft features of his presence contrasting with the weight of it.
"Until you can become whole, we want to take your hand and stand by you on the road that lies ahead," the man said.
"You can never break those shackles unless you face yourself," he continued, "but just know that we are here, waiting until you do."
He reached out his hand, soft in complexion but scarred all over.
"So will you take our hand?" he said.
Izumi didn't know what to think. Everything was spiralling so fast that he couldn't process all of his thoughts at once.
So he gave in to that strange feeling he had felt before and took his hand.
The roses all around them began seeping black from their petals the moment they did.
"What is your name?" Izumi asked, staring into his dark eyes.
"It is—"