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By nightfall, headlines blazed across sports pages, lighting up both print and digital outlets. Arsenal's season had begun not with hesitation, but with a bang.
In their opening Premier League match, the Gunners dispatched Aston Villa 3-1 at the Emirates. It was a solid performance, particularly in the second half, and a strong start to the new campaign.
Luis Suárez earned man-of-the-match honours with a rating of 8.5, his brace underlining his lethal presence up top. Not far behind was Arsenal's new captain, Kai, who notched an 8.0 and scored a diving header to make it two-nil.
Although the first half had been something of a slow burn, things picked up dramatically after the interval. In the 51st minute, Arsenal earned a corner, and Kai dove like a hammerhead to thump it home—his first goal of the new season.
Wenger made a few tactical rotations later in the game, bringing on Flamini in the 73rd minute. But Flamini's game in the red and white was less than ideal; a lapse in concentration allowed Villa to pull one back.
Still, the Gunners didn't waver. In the 88th minute, Suárez—showing a different kind of hunger—sealed the win with his second goal, restoring the two-goal cushion. 3-1 the final score, and the Emirates faithful went home singing.
But it wasn't just Arsenal who tasted victory on opening day—the Premier League's Big Six all walked away with three points:
Liverpool 1-0 Stoke City
Chelsea 2-0 Hull City
Manchester City 4-0 Newcastle United
Manchester United 4-1 Swansea City
Tottenham Hotspur 1-0 Crystal Palace
Manchester United looked especially sharp, fresh off their Community Shield win over Arsenal. David Moyes, finally with some silverware in hand, gave Red Devils fans plenty to cheer about with a commanding victory in Wales.
Chelsea, under Mourinho's second spell, were efficient and ruthless. Lampard rolled back the years with a vintage display—assisting Oscar's opener before calmly converting a penalty of his own.
Though Fernando Torres didn't find the net, his work rate caught Mourinho's eye. After the match, the Portuguese manager aimed a few barbs at Arsène Wenger during his press conference.
"Wenger is ruining Kai," Mourinho said flatly. "He should leave and come to a proper club—Chelsea."
It was classic José, throwing petrol on an already simmering rivalry.
Wenger, clearly unamused, responded via a short statement—leading to yet another online clash between the two titans of touchline theatre.
Fans were divided, but Arsenal supporters seemed largely unfazed. Mourinho's obsession with Kai only confirmed what they already knew: their stand-in captain was turning heads across England.
And they weren't selling him. Not for any price.
Kai was their captain now.
...
Inside the Arsenal dressing room...
"Another one. Seriously?" Chamberlain muttered, holding up his phone showing a blog of the Daily Mirror with mock disgust. "You've got like six nicknames now. I've got none—zero. Where's my love, eh?"
Kai glanced over, smirked, and patted him on the back. "Don't worry, Oxie. Your time will come. With many nicknames, too."
Chamberlain squinted at him. "Why do I feel like that's not a good thing?"
Moments later, on the training pitch, Wenger called Kai aside.
"In that first match... why didn't you try any shots from distance?" the manager asked, his voice low but pointed.
Kai rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "I just wanted to get the win first."
Wenger nodded but pressed on. "Next time, don't hesitate. You've got the green light to shoot. Don't overthink it—practice makes precision."
"Understood, coach," Kai replied, nodding.
As the captain jogged off toward the training area, Wenger watched him with a thoughtful expression.
Kai had all the tools—leadership, work ethic, tactical awareness—but he was almost too respectful. Most players would take a dozen potshots the moment they had permission. With Kai, Wenger had to remind him that he was allowed to shoot.
If things didn't change, he might have to assign minimum long-range attempts per match just to force the issue.
...
Later, on the separate training pitch, Kai was accompanied by Pat Rice, who had stayed back to work with him.
Their focus for the next few weeks: long shots, free kicks, and penalties.
With midfield creativity currently flowing through Arteta, Cazorla, Rosický, Wilshere, and Walcott, Kai was relieved of playmaking duties for now. That gave him room to hone other weapons.
He emptied a bag of balls around the penalty arc. Pat stood to the side, arms folded.
"Remember, when taking a long shot, your supporting foot should be pointed exactly where you want the ball to go," Pat instructed.
Kai stepped up, struck the ball with precision, and sent it screaming into the top corner.
Pat grinned. "Lovely. We'll add pressure drills next. You'll have a man closing you down next time. Doesn't matter—still gotta hit the target."
...
That night, after returning home, Kai continued his workout. As he moved through his flexibility routine, his phone buzzed.
A number he didn't recognise.
He wiped sweat from his brow and picked up.
"Hello?"
A hearty laugh came through the line. "Evening, Kai! Sorry to call so late. Jonathan Barnett here—you've probably heard the name."
Barnett. The name rang loud in English football. Agent to Gareth Bale, Luke Shaw, Joe Hart... and now, clearly, interested in him.
"I got your number from Wojciech," Barnett continued. "Hope you don't mind me being direct. I'd love to have a proper chat."
Kai didn't hesitate. "I'll be honest with you, Mr. Barnett. If you're looking for a quick profit, I'm probably not your guy."
"Oh? And what do you think I'm after?"
"Money. And I'm not playing for that. I'm here to grow. Just thought we should be clear."
There was a pause.
Then: "Can we meet?"
Kai raised an eyebrow. "You mean now?"
"Unless it's inconvenient."
He glanced at the clock. "Fine. Here's my address..."
...
Thirty minutes later, the doorbell rang. Kai opened it to see a round, balding man in a sharp suit and an easy smile.
Jonathan Barnett stepped inside after Kai's invitation, looked around Kai's modest flat, and chuckled. "Well, this certainly proves your point."
Kai laughed. "Told you I'm not here for flash."
Barnett kicked off his shoes, took a seat, and glanced around again.
"Anything to drink?" Kai asked.
"What've you got?"
"Hot water, warm water, and ice water."
Barnett laughed. "Ice water it is, then."
As he sipped, he noticed Kai's sweat. "Training again?"
"Just some flexibility work. Still rehabbing the ligament from last season."
Barnett nodded approvingly. "Impressive."
"Right," Kai said, settling opposite. "Let's hear your pitch."
"Straight to business, huh?"
Kai cut to the chase. "I don't like long games. Just show me what you've got."
Barnett grinned and pulled a file from his briefcase. "Fair enough."
For the next half hour, he laid out a comprehensive career roadmap—sponsorships, potential transfers, media exposure, even a future Real Madrid offer on standby.
Kai listened quietly, absorbing every word.
When Barnett finally finished, he looked up.
But Kai didn't speak.
"You're not impressed?" the agent asked.
Kai finally replied, "You've done your homework. But the whole plan makes it sound like you want to turn me into the next Cristiano or Messi."
Barnett blinked. "And what's wrong with that?"
"Nothing. They're legends. But I'm not chasing that path. I'm not a brand. I'm not an icon. I want to be more like Gerrard."
There was a long silence.
"You realise that's even harder," Barnett said, his voice suddenly more serious. "To be thatkind of player—to carry a club, to bleed for it, to win with it... not many survive that path."
Kai nodded slowly. "I know. That's why I need the right people around me."
Barnett stared at him, then quietly began packing up his documents.
Kai stood and walked him to the door.
"Thanks for your time," he said politely.
Barnett turned back and grinned.
"Give me a week," he said. "I'll bring you a new plan. Something a bit more... Gerrard, a bit less billboard."
Kai blinked in surprise.
Barnett winked. "This is exciting, isn't it?"
Kai laughed and nodded.
"Maybe you are," Barnett said, turning to go. "But that makes two of us now."
He held up a hand for a handshake.
Jonathan reciprocated.
"Two lunatics, then!"
Kai closed the door, still smiling.
This time, he felt like things were heading in the right direction.