GRANDMAESTA_30
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Chapter 47: A Voice From The Heart
🕑 Added 2025-05-22 15:30:29 +0000 UTCSydney, Australia.
In a small corner store near the heart of the city, a man named Jake Thompson glanced at the clock hanging above the counter. He was on break, and he only had twenty minutes.
He popped open his phone, fingers flying. “Come on, come on…”
Jake was a die-hard Arsenal fan. Had been for as long as he could remember. Most mornings, he’d catch replays of late-night games while brewing coffee for the early rush.
And today was special.
He’d been hearing about this new vlog—one that every Gooner online was buzzing about.
This wasn’t just match highlights. It was personal. It was from that new kid. The one wearing No. 4.
The kid who reminded him—and thousands of others—of a certain iron-blooded captain.
Jake still remembers the days of Vieira vs. Keane. The battles. The fire. The passion.
And after Vieira left, something felt missing.
Arsenal still played beautiful football. But the grit? The edge? It had dimmed.
Jake stuck by them. Through the good, the bad, and the trophyless years.
And now?
Now there was this kid named Kai.
He’d seen him in the Sunderland match. That presence. The tackles. The pressing. The intensity.
It felt like Vieira had returned in spirit.
Jake had never shouted so loud at a TV.
Today, during his short break in a stuffy backroom, Jake was ready to believe again.
He cracked open the Arsenal homepage.
Five minutes to go until the vlog premiered.
He rubbed his hands together, eyes glued to the screen. “Alright, kid. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
19:00, London Time.
Ding-dong. The update went live.
Jake clicked in without hesitation.
The screen was black. The audio was fuzzy.
Then the video shook a little... and the screen lit up.
A young man’s face filled the frame. He looked like he’d just woken up—eyes half-shut, hair a mess.
“Hey guys!” he said, groggy but cheerful. “The professor asked me to do a vlog for you. But I’ve never done this before, so don’t expect much!”
As Kai spoke, most fans couldn’t help noticing his solid build.
Jake grinned. “Bloody hell… look at those legs.”
Next came the sound of rustling clothes as Kai dressed and picked up his phone.
He said. “There’s a saying back home: ‘A day’s plan starts in the morning. Meaning you have to be productive as early as possible.”
“And I believe in morning training. Let’s go for a run.”
He smiled, shook his head, and then—camera in hand—took off.
Jake listened closely to his breathing. Steady. Strong. No wheezing.
Then Kai spoke again.
“I’m not gonna show you where I’m running. Honestly, you guys are too good at finding stuff. I’ve had to hide from you guys sometimes. Cut me some slack, will you?”
Jake burst out laughing. “Mate, you’ve no idea what kind of detectives we are.”
Fans around the world laughed with him.
Kai grinned, looking at the imaginary comments. “Alright, alright. I’ll take your word for it. But seriously—don’t mess with my training, or you are getting the bat.”
The video cut, and when it came back on, Kai was fully dressed and holding a football.
“Okay,” he said to the camera. “Here’s a trick I’ve been working on for ball control, Old Man Pat is always on my ass about it. It’s about one kilometer to the training base. I’ll be juggling the ball the whole way. You can watch me.”
The ball barely touched the ground.
For almost half an hour, fans were glued to their screens, watching the kid keep the ball alive.
Finally, the ball dropped. The camera flipped. Kai smiled and tapped the screen.
“Still with me?”
Every Arsenal fan watching was stunned.
He did it.
He did it.
Jake let out a long whistle. “That’s mad. Unreal.”
Back on screen, Kai chuckled. “No edits. No cuts. No tricks. And I’m off to training then. Buckle up for the anime-like training montage.”
Hahahahahaha!
Jake couldn’t stop laughing.
He was sure he wasn't the only one having a blast.
The next segment was a short training montage—just thirty minutes. Mostly edited clips from team practice.
But even in those short glimpses, Kai’s defensive presence stood out.
Striker after striker tried their luck. Almost everyone got shut down.
Fans didn’t just see potential—they realized this wasn’t a fluke.
This was normal for Kai.
Their hearts swelled.
An 18-year-old midfield general? What’s not to love?
The scene shifted again. Night had fallen.
Kai sat in his room in a fresh shirt and shorts. He adjusted the camera and pulled up a chair.
“Alright,” he said. “Let’s talk. I’m Le Kai, from Northeast China. I joined Arsenal last July from Sporting CP.”
He then gave a sincere smile. “You know, when I came to London, everything was new and foreign. Took some time to adjust. Met a good family who took me in, made friends in the squads, and got mentors who trained to be better. Little by little, this city and club have grown on me, and I can consider it home.”
Everybody watching had a smile as they paid attention to his next words.
“I’m not gonna sugarcoat things,” Kai went on. “The atmosphere at the Emirates? Way too quiet. Come on, guys! We need to scare our opponents. We’re the Gunners!”
No one was offended. He wasn’t wrong.
Then his tone shifted.
“ Maybe no one wants to hear this, but I’m saying it anyway.”
Kai sat cross-legged on the floor, camera close.
“I joined last year, and to be honest... the vibe back then wasn’t great. A lot of pressure. A lot of tension. Two captains had left us. That hurt.”
“But here’s the thing—no tough time lasts forever. We’re Arsenal. We’ve seen hard times and still stood tall. That’s our legacy.”
He looked into the camera.
“If you’re still here listening, I guess we can talk heart to heart. Though maybe I’m talking to myself, who knows?”
Fans watched in silence. No one left.
Kai leaned forward.
“This is real talk now.”
Taping his chest before pointing to the screen.
“Yeah, we’ve lost people. Captains. Legends. Whether we like it or not, they’re gone.”
“But what’s in front of us is now.”
“From Woolwich to Highbury, and from Highbury to the Emirates—we’ve always moved forward.”
“The ones who brought us here... they gave us something more than trophies. They gave us a spirit.”
“Don’t give up.”
“We’re standing on the shoulders of giants. They didn’t build this for us to coast. They built it so we’d push further.”
“No club starts as a champion. You’ve gotta earn it.”
“This journey’s hard. It’ll test us. That’s what makes it worth it.”
“So hold your heads high. Let the players hear you. Your voices. Your belief.”
“City made it rain gold at the Etihad—why can’t we?”
“Premier League. FA Cup. Champions League. Community Shield. There are so many trophies. Why shouldn’t one be ours?”
Kai stared into the lens, voice steady.
“The answer’s already in your blood. In your bones.”
He held up three fingers.
“Don’t. Give. Up.”
The screen faded to black. The vlog ended.
