Record #1: The Phenomenon

Damien breathes, letting out wisps of his breath as he hides his chin behind the collar of his coat. He clings onto his coat tightly as he keeps himself warm away from the freezing winter air. Sunset had far passed near this time of year and he was relying on the lights of lampposts, buildings, and the passing cars around him to see clearly. For a while he had clung onto the phone in his pocket as if awaiting some hopeful message to appear before him, but never once did he feel the chime and rumble of a notification. So, he left it at that, wondering in what other way he'd get over the oppressive feeling of losing the final game his highschool volleyball team would ever get to play.

…well that is, as a manager. In all fairness, he'd never been physically active and when he had joined a club out of convenience (knowing well it'd aid him in getting some form of extracurricular for his college resume), he hadn't been given many options. As sports-centered as his highschool was, the only non-sports centered clubs were either for girls or academically focused (which he knew he wouldn't enjoy and would look rather lackluster compared to those of the abundantly more academically inclined schools).

Thus, Damien, stuck with a list of sports-clubs, chose the option that had piqued his interest most: volleyball. It wasn't as if he felt the sport any better to others but it was one, indoors and away from the blazing sun as well as two, simply more fun to watch. Volleyball had always felt more personal; movements were more minute, fast-paced, and through the lenses of his black glasses, always depicted in an intimate manner where every player in both teams could be seen at once.

Despite volleyball being considered a 'female' sport most of the time, his school was nonetheless one of the few with a male volleyball team and with the lack of experience he had coming into it, it wasn't a surprise he wasn't ever in the starting lineup. This would continue for the next year as he watched along the sidelines and throughout the games his teammates struggled through, the numerous drills his body was tiredly forced into, and the almost naive platitude of those annually chosen as the captain, Damien had realized one thing: his teammates lived for the sport. It was the cause of their insistent spirit where a game was never truly over until it was; every point meant the match would continue.

Yet, Damien had never felt that fire his teammates had welling up within him. His eyes had shone with interest, sure, and he'd believed the remark of their coach about the 'individuality of each player' to the team, but he had never felt that way. Damien felt lost in the world, unknowing of what would entail in his future. Schoolmates had always told them of their dreams to be an actor, a scientist, a streamer, but Damien had merely followed the 'suggested' road, going through school without a care of what to do until college had struck him in the face.

In the end, Damien had chosen some random college nearby in hopes to find the passion his teammates playing volleyball had so brightly.

When time rolled around for 'the disaster year' his teammates would call it, where their coach resigned, their seniors left for their own colleges, and their manager of three years too had left with no one to take their place, it was like some shining beacon to Damien. Stuck in the background for three years of his highschool team, Damien had spoken up and declared he'd take the role of 'manager' if they had no one else to take it. And no one argued, though a few had given looks of pity as if they'd hoped Damien would've found some other way to shine on the team, without being tossed aside as merely the manager - he'd 'worked so hard for the past three years' after all.

Time still went on, though, and without a coach (for the school invested their funds more on the other teams that did far better than the volleyball team ever had), Damien almost subconsciously took on that role himself as well. He found himself studying late at night, finding new techniques & training strategies, before submitting it to the volleyball team in which members either took strong opposition or had considered it with respect. With enough coaxing, Damien had managed to subtly move the team in a united direction, less solely based on the 'spirit of competition' his highschool was so known for. And for once, perhaps it may have been a delusion, but Damien felt a bud of that burning thrill of wanting to do something everyone else had described.

But it came all crashing down as no matter how well Damien aided the team in his final year, it was still the final year. As small as the community of male-volleyball teams was in his district, it only meant fiercer competition, worsened by the desperation of seniors that wanted to play just one more game. No matter how much unity he gave his team, it still ended in their loss the third game in, and as a result, Damien's own. That budding thrill was torn to pieces and the team silently split apart as the seniors focused on exams and just enjoying their final year in highschool. Though volleyball practices continued, the burning spirit never felt as bright and Damien was back to being alone in the world, unknowing of his destiny.

That brings him to the current, four hours before midnight and alone under the lights of the city streets in the cold chill of December. Only just returning from volleyball practice, Damien moves the strap of his duffel bag further up his shoulder as he sighs, letting out a white puff of his breath in the frosty air. Looking up, Damien crosses the street as the symbol of the white man flashes on the traffic light. He counts the white lines on the concrete as he walks by, trying to keep himself from any lingering thoughts before he pauses as he reaches to the other side of the crosswalk. A sudden intense wave of wind blows through his hair and his glasses would've been blown away had Damien not kept his gloved hands tightly held onto it, with the other having been held just as tightly on his bag strap.

Looking up, thinking he would get an answer as for the impromptu gust of wind on his face, he didn't see the glimmering of the nearly full moon as he'd expected. Rather, it was something Damien could only closely relate to the aurora borealis, something shining so brightly and out of place in the middle of the night.

'But they only appear near the arctic circle don't they?'

He squints at the sight with confusion, trying to reason with the occurrence of the phenomenon he's seeing with his own eyes. Damien had seen the northern lights once on a family trip to Minnesota and though bright, it was nothing near alike. The sight before him was almost circular rather than bending and it almost seemed as if it was bursting forth in the sky with spikes of electricity. Damien barely made out what seemed to be like lines of a grid, connected with rings of light colored in purples and blues. If the spiking from the central light was truly electricity, Damien couldn't hear it over the sound he could only describe as sucking, like a vacuum or a vortex of wind. Perhaps there was a faint sound of sparking when he listened closely but Damien let himself look around him instead to rest his eyes away from the light.

What he found was desolate, no people, no cars actively driving by. The lights of street lamps flickered and an eerie feeling settled within Damien as he tried to calm himself, adjusting his glasses with another hand still held on tight to the strap of his bag.

'Should I be taking a video of this?'

Despite seeing something that no doubt rang alarm bells in his head, Damien only wondered if he was the first (or perhaps would be the last) to see the sight. He was too entranced in the moment to think rationally - though in the back of his mind, he doubted it was likely running or calling for help would do much - and he never planned to major in astrophysics but Damien still thought back to what he'd learned of it in his short lifespan so far.

Was the phenomenon in his sights something akin to a black hole? A white hole? Or perhaps it was a wormhole? It felt like it had to do with something about the bending of spacetime. That quick moment of thought brought Damien to another which he spoke aloud:

"An Ultra Wormhole?"

Damien almost laughed to himself at the statement knowing full well it was about a fictitious concept in the first place. At least it brought something out of an otherwise solemn day. He didn't get much time to think further, though, as he felt the still-freezing wind pick up around him far worse than before, leaving Damien to feel as if he'd barely be able to breathe. He clung onto his glasses and bag tighter than before yet when the feeling of being swept on his feet ran through him, Damien almost screamed. His arms wrapped around the nearby pole the traffic sign was set onto as his fingers pressed onto the metal. That being said, Damien also didn't hold on for long. While volleyball did help his muscles, it was never used for holding onto something for a long duration of time as he was now.

Rapidly, his arms were forced away from the pole as he shrieked. Being tossed around like a ragdoll in the wind, Damien could only curl in on himself, keeping his glasses on his face and his bag between his legs for it had flown off his shoulder. Barely opening his eyes to see what's occurring around him, Damien saw himself flying further and further away from the ground with a sight of being as if in the middle of a hurricane. Trees were blown askew, parked cars were steering towards a certain side of the road, and street lamps were beginning to shatter. Yet, the street was still empty of any other person aside from Damien himself. As wind continues pushing Damien backward, he tilts his head back as he approaches the large tear in space before him. He shudders a breath past the constructing wind the further from the ground he got.

Damien's fear response had always been to freeze and while he'd improved his lack of action under distress through volleyball, he was floating in the air and being carried by the wind. Freezing was all he could do. Finding himself beginning to be enveloped in the purple and blue lights of the entrance of the portal, Damien's eyes began to tire as the wind carrying him subsided and the gravity around him became weightless.

He narrowly witnessed a sight of a small creature fluttering around him, looking much like a fairy. With clear wings, large blue eyes, and green antenna, the face of its green body gave a bothered expression.

"Cele… Celebi!"

The creature closed its eyes as it spread its small arms outward. Blue light pulsed around Damien and as the entrance closed around him, his eyes finally shut.

A/N:

First chapter of a new fic on FFN since forever! Feels nice actually compared to posting this on Ao3. (It's there under the same name if you prefer that platform!)

This was a story I'd been planning for a while and it's great to finally get some of my ideas out there. I don't like to go by a schedule as I feel it sets some sort of expectation I'll never meet but I hope I can get a chapter out biweekly? (No promises here… especially to any fans that know of my old DR fic.) I did get some pre-written chapters over Winter Break though, so expect a chapter next week!

Oh, and feel free to write constructive criticism in the comments if you feel like something needs to be pointed out I suppose? Lastly, many thanks to my beta readers avardiris, ShiroHatzuki, & raindrops! (That is, if they're all reading this anyway.)