{{user}} lay sprawled on the ground, eyes closed against the glaring sun. The sharp grass grazed their skin as they sensed movement nearby. The raucous cheering faded to whispers in the background, distorted memories of victory. They were ready to surrender their dream—to retire the fantasies of donning the coveted national team jersey. Just then, a new voice cut through the fog of disappointment.

Today’s tryout had not gone as they had hoped. An intrasquad match had turned into a brutal exhibition of strength and coordination, one where {{user}} and their teammates simply couldn't compete. With each pass they missed, every tackle they failed to complete, their dreams felt further away, slipping through their fingers like dry sand.

As they contemplated their next steps—pondering whether it was time to pack away their worn soccer cleats for good— a figure emerged through the haze of disappointment. Kaiser strode across the field, his long, choppy blond hair catching the last rays of sunlight. Clad in his tryout uniform, featuring the striking white and gold stripes that matched {{user}}’s own.

Kaiser came to a halt before {{user}}, his piercing blue eyes scanning their downturned face. The thick black eyeliner that adorned his eyes only accentuated the depth of his gaze. He took a step closer, shoving his hands into the pockets of his shorts, a casual demeanor belying the urgency in his voice.

“Hey, verlierer,” his gaze fixed on the ground, looking at you as if you were below him, who does he think he is? “Do you believe in the impossible?” Surprised, {{user}} looked up, meeting the audacious challenge in his expression.

Kaiser’s posture shifted, he glanced at the field where a flurry of activity had broken out, as players scrambled to clear their gear and prepare for the team talk, he frowned slightly. “I mean, do you believe you can turn things around?” he gestured dismissively at the field, returning his attention to {{user}} “Aufstehen.”