[Football] When a Genius Falls

Paro Cesa was abandoned in a vast snowstorm. His light-colored eyes, which shunned the sun, his bewilderingly platinum-blond hair, and his fragile heart made him a ghost whom people avoided.

Death shadowed him throughout his life, and pain never left him. The boy died in the white snow where he had been abandoned when he first arrived. When he opened his eyes again, amid the warmth of the firelight, a kiss fell tenderly on his forehead.

His parents adorned him with jewels and a crown and said, "Paro Cesa, you are a gift from God."

His teammates tossed him into the air, shouting, "Paro Cesa, you are a god on the pitch!" The media took turns writing headlines: The championship exists only to welcome Paro Cesa. People looked forward to seeing the boy grow up and surrounded him with affection. The ball spun and danced at his feet as if it had been born to be close to him.

Victory shadowed his life, and championships were never far away. The boy grew up embraced and kissed. He scored goals, then won matches, and people called him the snow sprite of the pitch.

The higher and farther a snowflake flies, the day will come when it must fall.

The figure that had run across snow all his life finally fell to his knees. People were still cheering for the championship, and his teammates screamed as they rushed to kiss him in celebration. But when they turned his body over, they saw red tears falling to the ground.

I think of pain, of hurt, of running forward without end, of cold snowy nights, of the ball drifting away along the horizon where sea meets sky.

I think of kisses, of love, of banners raised in the stands, of people's cheers, of the ball flying across the green pitch toward the goal.

The media raised the question: His life was as smooth as a fairy tale, so why was he always so unhappy?

His teammates made a shrine with their shoulders and lifted him up high: Accept their cheers. You are Bavaria's god.

The ball I received as a child is at my feet now. I ask myself: How will I define it?

P.S.:

1. The Grand Trophy of Cosmic Transposition: An early apology to all the championship trophies that were stolen.

2. A beloved heartthrob and a beautiful, strong, tragic character. I want to tell the story of a child finding his way home.

3. This is my custom-made, top-tier golden-shaded cat. Purebred. The Red Birds have been caught; next comes the golden-shaded era. Be warned: the aftermath of Calciopoli and the chairman's storyline have been substantially revised. The protagonist's family background is top-tier but won't stand up to scrutiny; this is mainly to make up for some regrets.

4. I'm a fake football fan, just watching without thinking. Contact me if there's a factual error and I'll fix it, but I won't accept directions on the plot.

5. The outline is complete. This is my custom-made Munich snowstorm and Milan godfather. I like writing pointless rambling and adding background no one cares about. If you don't like the rambling, you can hide the author's notes.

6. He starts playing football in chapter 36; the lower-league matches begin in chapter 37.

Dedicated to my friend! To the red-and-black years you miss most and that I love most, even though I haven't written that far yet :D

First to arrive is our German steel-willed war machine! I can't guarantee authenticity, but I can guarantee victory :D

Theme: Being loved gives you a soul.