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Chapter 15: Call-up
🕑 Added 2025-05-14 15:18:04 +0000 UTCIn the equipment room, a lone figure was drenched in sweat as he trained.
Kai was running shirtless on the treadmill, his upper body glistening. His muscles looked fuller than usual—almost swollen.
That was the cost of rapid weight gain in a short period. To counteract the bloating, he’d need to strengthen various muscle groups over time to tighten and tone everything properly.
Muscle building always came down to two things: eating and training.
Kai now stood at 1.85 meters and weighed 77 kilograms. In the physical battles of the Premier League, that still wasn’t quite enough. His core strength and lower body needed work—he was still getting knocked off balance too easily.
That’s why Kai had once again sought out Pat Rice for strength training.
Pat had been quietly pleased. He appreciated that Kai had a clear grasp of his weaknesses. Even if Kai hadn’t brought it up, Pat had already planned to address the weight issue.
"Last set on the machines, then flexibility work!" Pat called out.
He disappeared briefly, then returned from the storage room carrying two yoga mats and an assortment of equipment.
Kai let out a dry chuckle. If strength training was tedious, then flexibility work was outright torture.
Pat, despite being 63 years old, had good flexibility. Kai still couldn’t believe the old man could pull off yoga poses with such ease.
Lying on the mat, Kai bent his right thigh across his body, twisted to the left, and reached across with his left hand to touch his right knee, keeping his upper body still. He exhaled slowly, feeling the stretch deep in his muscles.
It had been two weeks since his last session with Pat.
Since then, Kai had impressed during training. Whether it was his focus or his effort level, he was easily among the top performers.
After regular training, he and Pat often stayed behind for extra work. That dedication paid off—Kai had managed to gain 3kg in just two weeks.
At 17, he was still growing, and his appetite seemed bottomless. That worked in his favor. A steady intake of calories and consistent training had bulked him up fast.
With an added 6 pounds of muscle, Kai now carried more weight and presence. Even in practice matches, players like Arshavin and Walcott had started avoiding direct contact with him.
Reason?
Once he absorbed that first bump, he almost always came away with the ball.
And his passing ability? That had shocked even the veterans.
There was one moment, in particular, that stood out. It happened under Wenger’s watchful eye, and even though it was just once, it left everyone stunned.
With Gervinho positioned near the box, Kai delivered a beautiful curved pass that looped perfectly behind Johan Djourou's head and landed right at Marouane Chamakh’s feet for a clean strike.
Afterward, both players had something to say about it.
Djourou: “The pass was class. Switched off a bit and got punished.”
Chamakh: “It was such a comfortable long pass. I don’t even know how he knew I’d be making that run, but the ball came right to me—like he measured my steps. It was unreal.”
That pass had been Kai’s standout moment—and it left Wenger speechless.
Though he’d always had hopes for the boy, Kai was exceeding all expectations. From that day forward, Wenger started encouraging him to attempt more long passes.
But strangely, nothing like that pass happened again. It wasn’t that Kai didn’t want to try—he simply couldn’t find the space. As soon as he moved into the attacking third, opposing midfielders swarmed him.
His ball control still wasn’t sharp enough to handle that pressure. Forcing it would only lead to turnovers.
So for now, that magical pass remained his only highlight.
Still, Wenger’s opinion of him had changed. Forget organizational skills—just that long ball alone was enough to raise eyebrows.
In counterattacks, a weapon like Kai could be devastating.
They wouldn’t have to rely solely on Arteta to push the play forward. Feed the ball to Kai and let him deliver a precision pass—he could connect directly with Van Persie up front.
Of course, Kai wasn’t perfect. He was like a student who excelled in one subject but struggled with the rest. One moment of brilliance, followed by glaring weaknesses.
But Wenger wasn’t worried.
Kai’s attitude toward training was unlike anything he’d seen in a while. The kid was obsessed.
Seriously.
Wenger rarely encountered someone so self-disciplined. Kai was always the first to arrive and the last to leave the training ground.
It wasn’t just regular training, either—he did extra sessions without fail.
And it wasn’t like distractions were far away. The training facility wasn’t far from central London, and many promising young players had lost their way in the city’s temptations.
Most 17-year-olds would’ve been pulled in. But not Kai. It was as if training had become more essential than eating or sleeping.
His dedication had even started to rub off on others.
Alexander Song, also a defensive midfielder, had noticeably stepped up. Sensing competition, he proactively asked the coaching staff for more training time.
That had never happened before.
Pat joked that Kai might know some sort of mystical Eastern spells—he was always muttering something under his breath before pushing through fatigue like it was nothing.
Neither Pat nor Wenger had any idea what the words meant.
What they didn’t realize was that Kai was whispering in Mandarin:
“No pain, no gain.”
....
The second round of the league had ended. Arsenal had lost 2–0 to Liverpool at home.
The Emirates was in an uproar.
Fans had been confident before kickoff—they thought they’d take down Liverpool. But the loss left Arsenal with just one point after two matches and dangerously close to the relegation zone.
And next, they had to face Manchester United.
A nightmare scenario.
This wasn’t the dominant United of the Class of ’92, but with Rooney, Nani, and Ashley Young, they were still incredibly balanced and dangerous.
Arsenal had little hope of winning.
After the second-round defeat, the media were ruthless:
<<Fabregas’ departure is starting to show.>>
Those headlines infuriated everyone at the club.
They resented Fabregas for leaving and didn’t want to admit that his absence had such a huge impact.
But it did. Fabregas had been vital.
Even Van Persie, now captain and expected to lead, hadn’t delivered anything convincing so far.
Now the third round was looming.
That evening, after training, Wenger prepared to announce the 18-man traveling squad.
Kai wasn’t expecting much. Even if he made the list, he wouldn’t see game time.
Wenger began reading names:
“Van Persie, Walcott, Arshavin, Chamakh, Lansbury, Ozyakup, Sunu, Rosicky, Coquelin, Ramsey, Djourou, Traoré, Koscielny, Jenkinson, Miquel, Szczęsny, Fabiański…”
Then he paused, looked toward the back of the room, locked eyes with Kai for a moment, and turned to say:
“Chamberlain.”
Chamberlain blinked, stunned. His face lit up with excitement.
He had joined Arsenal three months ago, and finally, he was heading out with the first team—maybe even getting his debut.
He turned to Kai, raised his chin slightly, and said with a grin, “I’ll play before you do, just watch!”
Kai scoffed, rolled his eyes, and muttered under his breath, Let’s see if you’re still smiling after the match.
Truthfully, Kai didn’t want Chamberlain on the list. It wasn’t the right time. If he debuted now, there was a high chance he’d be crushed—literally and emotionally.
But that wasn’t up to Kai. He could only watch things unfold.
Back in the locker room, Chamberlain was still buzzing. He stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his hair.
“What style do you think I should go with tomorrow?” he asked, half-joking, half-serious.
Kai ignored him.
That night, Kai had dinner with Billy’s family.
At one point, Billy looked up and said, “Kai, I’m taking you to watch the match tomorrow.”
Kai blinked. “To Manchester?”
Billy chuckled. “Nah, we’re staying in London. There’s a pub where fans gather to watch the big games. I want to introduce you to the Arsenal supporters there. Build some rapport. When you finally make the squad, they’ll be in the stands cheering for you.”
Kai raised an eyebrow, genuinely intrigued.
After weeks of relentless training, a little break didn’t sound so bad.
Still, a thought lingered in his mind.
Is this match worth watching…?
