The next day, Kai and Chamberlain received notice to report to the first training ground for the club's training camp. Their expressions were full of excitement.
After nearly three months of individual training, they were finally stepping onto the first team's turf.
This was a big milestone. Being called up to train with the senior squad meant they had earned Wenger's preliminary approval. If they met expectations, there was even a chance they'd get some game time.
Pat Rice personally brought the two of them to the training ground. After a brief introduction, he handed them over to Van Persie. The players had their dynamic, and as an assistant coach, Pat preferred not to interfere unnecessarily.
The route to the dressing room took them through a long corridor.
Van Persie led the way, with Kai and Chamberlain following in silence.
The captain didn't say a word, so neither did they.
Kai observed his back. Van Persie's shoulders were slightly slumped.
The weight of leading a struggling Arsenal side seemed to be taking its toll.
When they reached the locker room door, Van Persie opened it and walked in.
Kai and Chamberlain followed closely behind.
But Van Persie didn't introduce them. He simply walked to his locker and began changing in silence.
It wasn't training time yet, so the room was fairly empty.
But Arshavin, Ramsey, and Koscielny were already there.
The three of them, along with Van Persie, were quietly going about their routines, not exchanging a single word.
They could've been strangers for all the interaction going on.
The atmosphere was heavy—almost suffocating.
Arshavin sat lost in thought. His contract was about to expire, and the club hadn't said a word about renewal. As a Russian international, he didn't want to return to the domestic league if he could help it. But that wasn't up to him.
Ramsey was massaging his calf with care.
Since the horrific leg break two years ago, he had taken extra precautions. That injury had altered the trajectory of his young career. His once-impressive form had dipped, and critics claimed he was no longer the player he used to be—damaged goods, courtesy of Stoke City.
And then there was Koscielny.
He was starting to show signs of rebellion. Influenced by players like Fabregas, Nasri, and Song, Koscielny would eventually leave too. But the way he did it—removing his Arsenal shirt in a club video to reveal Bordeaux's jersey—left fans furious.
Seeing the four senior players completely immersed in their worlds, Kai and Chamberlain stood awkwardly at the entrance.
Kai broke the silence.
"Come on, let's find our lockers."
Since no one had the decency to greet them, he wasn't going to waste time trying to win over cold shoulders.
Chamberlain looked like he wanted to say something to break the ice, but Kai subtly stopped him.
It would only make them look foolish.
In a corner, they found their lockers with nameplates.
The two dropped their bags and began changing.
Kai opened his locker and saw the Arsenal home jersey folded neatly inside.
Red and white.
A jersey that had once symbolized a legendary 49-game unbeaten run. A jersey that had brought so much pride, now mocked and ridiculed by the public.
He picked it up and turned it over.
No. 29.
Not a first-choice number, which he had expected.
Chamberlain, on the other hand, had been given No. 15—a more prominent number, suggesting he might see playing time this season.
Kai folded the jersey and placed it aside, pulling out the training kit underneath.
He sat on the bench and began changing.
After suiting up, he placed his bag in the locker, shut it, and stepped out.
Soon, more Arsenal players began arriving at the training ground.
To be honest, the team's atmosphere was terrible.
No one talked.
Everyone seemed lost in their thoughts.
Even during the warm-up jog, there was zero interaction.
The weight of the silence made every breath feel heavier, every step more draining.
Kai ran at the back of the line and glanced up at Van Persie ahead.
Shouldn't the captain be saying something?
But Van Persie's expression was detached.
Maybe the club's poor state had numbed him to everything.
Maybe that's why he eventually chose to leave.
Even as captain, he saw nothing worth staying for.
After warm-ups, the squad was split into three groups: forwards, midfielders, and defenders, each with tailored training drills.
Midfielders paired up to stretch.
Chamberlain was assigned to the forwards. Arsenal had bought him to be an immediate threat on the wing.
That left Kai looking for a partner.
"Let's train together," said a voice.
Arteta had walked over with a friendly smile.
Kai nodded quickly. "Sure."
They started stretching.
"Rough atmosphere, huh?" Arteta remarked.
Kai nodded. "Yeah. It's heavy."
"We've been through a lot lately," Arteta said. "It'll take time to adjust. There's an internal scrimmage coming up. I'll be with the subs—let's link up there."
Kai's eyes lit up. Getting to play in the internal match was a huge opportunity.
"That's great."
Training lasted for another hour before the scrimmage began.
Main Team:
GK: Szczesny
DEF: Koscielny, Vermaelen, Djourou
MID: Ramsey, Song, Rosický, Coquelin
FWD: Arshavin, Van Persie, Walcott
Substitute Team:
GK: Fabianski
DEF: Jenkinson, Mertesacker, Miquel
MID: Frimpong, Arteta, Benayoun, Kai
FWD: Schumacher, Chamberlain, Gervinho
Kai and the other substitutes pulled on their yellow bibs and waited on the field.
Among them, Arteta, Mertesacker, and Gervinho were experienced enough to anchor the group. The rest—Fabianski, Kai, Chamberlain—were talented but unproven.
On the sidelines, Wenger stood with his coaching team. Apart from the three acting as referees, the rest were focused on observing and recording data—data that would ultimately determine who earned a spot in the matchday squad.
Every substitute was fired up.
The main team, in contrast, seemed indifferent. No pep talks, no visible emotion. They looked like they were mentally elsewhere, unaffected by the subs' hunger.
That annoyed Kai for a moment, but then again, the senior players had earned the right to zone out.
The whistle blew.
The substitutes kicked off, with Chamberlain tapping the ball back.
Arteta collected it and passed further back, initiating the build-up.
The main team pressed immediately.
Kai saw Van Persie approaching and instinctively dropped back to offer support.
But the ball went right—not to him.
They trusted the Arteta–Benayoun combination more than the newcomer.
There wasn't much Kai could do about it.
Trust had to be earned. In pro football, if you don't prove yourself, no one's going to pass you the ball out of kindness.
That was something he learned early on.
The subs built their attack through Arteta, Benayoun, and Gervinho. It was a throwback to the glory days—an attempt to recreate Arsenal's famous left-flank trio: Thierry Henry, Roberto Pires, and Ashley Cole. A good idea, but it was just an imitation.
Gervinho wasn't Henry.
And Arteta, as composed as he was, wasn't a natural defensive midfielder—he had to work extra hard to cover ground.
Still, it brought some structure.
The main team, of course, could see through the plan.
Benayoun wasn't Pires—he lacked the same explosiveness and finesse.
Under mounting pressure, the subs were soon dispossessed—and the main team launched a counterattack.