In the evening, Kai returned to Billy's house. After dinner, he rushed into his room, grabbed his phone, and began watching various match videos.
He focused primarily on organizational play—how to control the tempo, structure the attack, and support transitions more effectively.
At Arsenal, Kai felt like he was constantly learning, constantly evolving.
It was a good feeling.
He hadn't yet beco soone the team could fully rely on, but deep down, he believed that his future self would be capable of things that now seed out of reach.
Late at night, lying in bed, Kai stared at his phone screen, eyes glued to the footage of match after match.
He watched the ball move between players, watched entire formations shift from left to right, following each pass.
Every so often, he'd exclaim in amazent, eyes widening as he replayed a sequence again and again.
At this mont, Kai was like a sponge, soaking up knowledge and growing with every fra he watched.
..
The next afternoon, after regular training wrapped up…
"Up for a little scrimmage?"
Cazorla raised an eyebrow, looking at Kai with surprise.
A few first-team players began gathering around, curiosity piqued.
"I want to work on my playmaking and organization," Kai explained sincerely. "If you're up for it, I'd appreciate your help. Of course, I totally understand if you're too tired after a full training session. No pressure."
The players exchanged glances.
Then Suarez raised a hand. "I still have so energy left. Let's have a kickabout."
Cazorla grinned. "Count in."
Arteta nodded. "I'm ga."
rtesacker added, "I'll join too."
Szczesny asked, "Do goalkeepers get to play in these too?"
To Kai's surprise, nearly twelve players stuck around.
Though not everyone joined, it was more than he expected.
The players included: Kai, Chamberlain, Suarez, Arteta, rtesacker, Szczesny, Cazorla, Ramsey, Podolski, Walcott, Jenkinson, and Koscielny.
They divided themselves into two teams of six:
Team 1: Kai, Suarez, Chamberlain, Cazorla, Ramsey, Podolski
Team 2: Arteta, rtesacker, Szczesny, Jenkinson, Walcott, Koscielny
They dragged small goals from the equipnt room and used half the pitch for a small-sided ga.
At first, Team 2 had the upper hand. Arteta's control and distribution gave them a clear advantage.
But Team 1 had its tricks. The trio of Suarez, Cazorla, and Podolski—masters of tight-space dribbling—started slicing through the defense with ease.
Kai, anwhile, was struggling to assert himself.
"Co on, guys!" he finally yelled, half-laughing, half-frustrated. "The way you're all playing, how am I supposed to organize anything?"
The three offenders looked sheepish—they'd gotten carried away.
They reset the match.
Kai positioned himself centrally, trying to connect the lines with every touch.
Easier said than done.
On a compressed pitch like this, one wrong move and possession was gone in an instant.
Every pass had to be sharp. Every decision, lightning fast.
He also relied on his Foresight on himself when he had the ball to try and see a successful ball path for passing to his teammates' next moves. Still, the ntal load was imnse—his brain felt like it was running on overdrive.
No room for sloppy touches.
No margin for error.
And yet, it was oddly exhilarating.
After about 30 minutes, Kai bent over, completely exhausted.
"Let's take a break," soone called.
Only then did they notice how drenched Kai was—his jersey stuck to him, soaked in sweat.
Sothing about that effort wasn't normal.
After a short rest, Kai clapped his hands. "Alright, let's keep going!"
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the Arsenal training ground was still alive with movent—players running, laughing, practicing.
From his office window, Wenger watched with a faint, content smile.
...
September 15, 2012.
[Emirates Stadium, North London]
"And now we're into the 87th minute of Arsenal's ho match against Southampton in the fourth round of the 2012/2013 Premier League season. The score stands at 5–1. After their previous massive win over Liverpool in the away fixture."
"Look at Kai's performance tonight," exclaid comntator Darke. "This is his first Premier League start. Four successful tackles, three interceptions, and an assist—he's been excellent."
His defensive contributions, especially, had given Arsenal a solid backbone.
"As long as Kai is on the pitch," Ian Darke continued, "Arsenal's defense looks solid."
"It was only a matter of ti before Wenger gave him a start," added McManaman, "You can't keep a player like that on the bench forever."
Fans had started calling Kai Wenger's godson and Chamberlain his real son, joking about how Chamberlain always got opportunities even when his form dipped, while Kai had to wait his turn despite solid performances.
...
Wenger, anwhile, was chatting with Pat Rice on the sidelines whilst glancing at the board showing 5 minutes of extra tis.
"Southampton played too cautiously," Wenger said, folding his arms. "They didn't really test Kai."
Pat raised an eyebrow. "What if the pressure gets to him when soone tests him?"
Wenger shook his head. "He's not that fragile."
Pat smiled knowingly. He'd watched Kai grow from the start.
The first three matches were about seeing whether Kai could maintain consistency. With that hurdle cleared, they could afford to show so faith.
It was Diaby they were starting to lose patience with.
Big hopes had been pinned on him, but his performances were falling short.
Now, they were preparing to back Kai fully.
If he continued performing like this, the starting role would be his.
Eighteen years old?
Didn't matter here.
At Arsenal, if you had the talent, you got your chance.
Even at sixteen, you'd be trusted with the midfield if you proved yourself.
Wenger let out a long breath. "Five more gas, right?"
Pat looked up, confused. Then he checked the fixture list, and his face grew serious.
"Yeah. Five gas until we face Manchester United."
Wenger turned toward the tunnel, where Kai's silhouette was disappearing.
"How do you think he'll handle it?" he asked.
"No idea," Pat replied. "But Chamberlain crumbled in that fixture last year..."
"I hope Kai's different," Wenger said quietly. "So players are born for big gas."
Pat muttered under his breath, "You said the sa thing last year—and we got thrashed."
Wenger's face twitched. "This ti it will be different."
Pat just sighed. That mountain still had to be climbed.
All he could do now was hope Kai would rise to the occasion.
...
The match ended 6–1. Cazorla assisted Gervinho in the dying minutes for his second goal.
Back in the tunnel, Captain Vermaelen waited by the dressing room door, giving every player a high-five as they ca in.
"Well played, Gervinho."
"Nice pass, Cazorla!"
"Suarez, great stuff out there."
He was grinning the whole ti, clearly pleased with the team's performance.
When Kai approached, Vermaelen's smile brightened even more.
This was the guy who made everything click for him during the match. Reliable. Unflappable.
Vermaelen raised his hand for a high-five.
"Kai, you—"
"Great ga, Cap!" Kai interrupted, patting Vermaelen's shoulder as he walked past.
Vermaelen blinked. "…"
Inside the dressing room, Kai kicked off his boots and peeled off his jersey, flopping onto the bench shirtless.
The whole place stank of sweat and effort.
He didn't care. He could've fallen asleep right there.
Exhausted.
Playing a full match was a different beast compared to small-sided drills.
Late in the ga, he'd even tried orchestrating a few attacks. It went well.
But it took a toll, ntally and physically.
Still… he was getting closer.
Kai let out a tired laugh.
He'd figure it out eventually.
...
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