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Chapter 84: Another Win
🕑 Added 2025-07-05 15:59:05 +0000 UTCWith 24 rounds of the Premier League behind us, the standings remain tight and unpredictable.
At the top, Manchester’s twin giants continue to lead the charge:
1st: Manchester United — 18 wins, 2 draws, 4 losses — 56 points
2nd: Manchester City — 15 wins, 7 draws, 2 losses — 52 points
Under Sir Alex Ferguson’s command, United are showing a fierce determination to secure the title.
Rumors swirl that this could be Ferguson’s final season at the helm. Though the club has yet to confirm it, they haven’t denied it either—and that silence speaks volumes.
Across the city, Manchester City still hope to defend their crown, but inconsistency, injuries, and the demands of competing on multiple fronts have taken their toll. Some pundits believe City might be heading down the same path as Arsenal did earlier this season.
3rd: Arsenal — 13-5-6 — 47 points
4th: Chelsea — 12-7-5 — 43 points
5th: Tottenham — 12-6-6 — 42 points
Arsenal have maintained their third position after back-to-back wins, putting a bit of buffer between them and Chelsea.
When Wilshere, Cazorla, Arshavin, and Arteta went down injured, many feared the worst. The season seemed in jeopardy. But then, Wenger placed his trust in Kai—and everything changed.
At first, his performances were steady, if unspectacular. But ever since that clash against Chelsea, Kai has grown into the role, becoming the cornerstone of Arsenal’s midfield.
As the Queen herself once quipped: “Who planted a wall in the middle of the pitch?”
Opponents now dread facing Arsenal, knowing Kai will be relentlessly hunting the ball. If you can’t play past Kai, you won’t get near Arsenal’s backline.
But what’s shocked the fans even more is Kai’s attacking prowess.
A goal and an assist in back-to-back matches against Chelsea and Liverpool—his contributions have gone far beyond expectations.
Add to that a heap of defensive stats, and it’s no exaggeration to say that when Arsenal needed a midfield general, Kai stood up and carried the team on his back.
The fans have fallen head over heels for the teenager.
A midfielder who defends, creates, and scores? What more could you ask for?
Many supporters are already comparing him to Yaya Touré, once regarded as the definitive box-to-box midfielder of the era.
Kai still has a long way to go before reaching Touré’s level of dominance, but the raw potential is there, and fans are daring to dream.
Some are even beginning to forget about the injury crisis altogether.
Because in Kai, they see something tougher, younger, and undeniably exciting.
Meanwhile, Chelsea was floundering. The tension between Benitez and the club continues to escalate, and whispers from the media suggest his time at Stamford Bridge is almost up.
Some believe Arsenal’s victory at the Bridge may have hastened his departure.
Spurs, too, are feeling the pressure. After mocking Arsenal’s early-season form, they’ve now gone two games without a win.
And while the league’s top five reshuffles itself week after week, one constant remains: Kai’s popularity is skyrocketing.
Arsenal fans have embraced him like one of their own—and the clearest sign? The No. 4 shirt.
That changed this week, when Arsenal quietly announced a limited release of just 100 No. 4 Kai jerseys.
They sold out in under thirty minutes.
Outside the sales point, Billy watched as the final jersey was handed to the person just ahead of him. He stood there, stunned.
...
Inside the Oak Bar...
Billy grumbled, nursing a pint. “They only made 100 of them? Doesn’t Wenger know how many people love Kai right now? It’s daylight robbery!”
Meadows rolled his eyes. “What’re you on about? Kai lives at your house!”
“That’s not the point!” Billy barked, slamming his glass down. “This is his first official kit! I wanted to collect it!”
He suddenly brightened. “Actually, I’ve got a better idea—I’m going to seal off Kai’s old room and turn it into a fan shrine. Arsenal fans’ll love it when he becomes a legend!”
Meadows laughed. “Brilliant. I’ll make sure to book a tour.”
Just then, the bell over the pub door chimed.
“Dad! Look at my new shirt!”
In strutted a teenager with Meadows’ chin and cheeky grin. He turned to show off his back.
No. 4 — KAI.
Billy stared.
“Wait. You got one?”
Harry grinned. “Queued since 3 am, mate. You should’ve seen it. Carnage. But worth it!”
He tugged the shirt proudly. “Now I’m wearing it to the Emirates next week. I’m officially one of the top 100 Kai fans!”
Billy blinked. “I’ve been robbed.”
“Oi! Hand that jersey over to your Uncle Billy, and I’ll sort you out with Kai’s off-the-pitch edition!”
Billy grinned, holding out his hand.
Harry scoffed. “I’ve got the exclusive matchday one. No chance I’m giving this up!”
Billy leaned in, lowering his voice like he was sharing a state secret. “Not even for the Kai's match jersey against United?”
Harry froze.
“You mean… the version from the 10th round?” he asked, eyes widening.
“That’s the one.” Billy nodded proudly, puffing out his chest like he’d just closed a transfer deal.
Without hesitation, Harry peeled off his Kai No. 4 shirt and shoved it into Billy’s hands. “Deal! Just don’t forget the United kit!”
“Relax,” Billy beamed, taking the jersey with all the reverence of a crown jewel.
Harry didn’t even stick around. With a whoop, he darted out of the Oak Bar and down the street, skipping with joy.
Meadows, who had been watching the whole exchange, turned to Billy in disbelief. “You really gave him that match shirt?”
That version had skyrocketed in value since the game. Kai had been everywhere in that match—tackling, dictating play, and, of course, scoring the winner. Arsenal fans had been scrambling to get their hands on anything connected to it.
Billy chuckled, leaning back in his seat. “Course not. There were two match kits from that day, remember?”
Meadows paused, then smacked his forehead. “Ah—right! Because Kai banged heads and bled early on. He had to change tops.”
Billy nodded. “Exactly. Two shirts. That one? Just the second kit. The clean one.”
Meadows leaned in, hopeful. “So… you kept the bloody one?”
Billy snorted. “What do you think?”
Meadows rolled his eyes. “You tricked a kid.”
“Hey, he got the one from the goal celebration. That’s still something.”
...
February 2nd — Emirates Stadium
The place was a madhouse. Fans roared, feet stomped, scarves waved—the Emirates had never sounded so alive.
Martin Taylor (Sky Sports): “Suárez again! That’s his 17th of the season—just one behind Van Persie now. Since joining Arsenal, the Uruguayan has silenced every doubt with performances like this. That price tag—£57 million—suddenly looks like a bargain.”
Alan Smith: “Absolutely, Martin. But credit where it’s due—we can't overlook what set this up.”
Martin Taylor: “You’re right. Kai didn’t get the goal or the assist, but it was his pressure that made the difference. He picked Glenn Whelan’s pocket clean in the final third, and Arsenal launched straight into the counter.”
Alan Smith: “It’s not the first time we’ve seen it either, but every time he does it, you just shake your head. The kid reads the game like he's been playing for a long time.”
Over near the corner flag, Suárez was sprawled across Kai’s back, grinning like a kid on Christmas. The crowd’s chant echoed like a thunderclap:
“SUÁREZ!”
“KAI!!”
“SUÁREZ!”
“KAI!!”
As they jogged back, Suárez leaned close and muttered, “One more goal.”
Kai blinked. Then he smiled.
“Let’s get it. You’ve got this.”
The Uruguayan nodded with conviction. Before the season, overtaking Van Persie seemed like a pipe dream. But now? He could feel it. The rhythm. The confidence. The fire. One more goal, and the Emirates would belong to him.
But Stoke City never looked like they’d answer back.
Though they were only a goal behind, Arsenal’s backline had them completely boxed out.
By the time the final whistle blew, it was Arsenal 1, Stoke City 0.
A third straight win.
...
After the match, Kai made his way to the East Stand.
It had become a tradition now—his ritual. The fans knew it. They waited, breath held, eyes following his every step.
And when they saw him walking toward them, a wave of electricity rippled through the crowd.
The East Stand went completely silent.
Kai smiled, lifted a hand.
Then, suddenly, his pace quickened. He started spinning his arm like a windmill.
A low murmur rumbled across the stand.
“Woooooo...”
Then, with three sharp punches into the air—
“ARSENAL!”
“ARSENAL!”
“ARSENAL!”
The stand exploded.
That sound—the chant, the rhythm, the roar—it was no longer just a celebration.
It was a declaration.
Kai was theirs now. Arsenal’s future, their heartbeat in midfield, and the reason fans dared to dream again.
