After leaving the nursing home, Karl and the others waved Le Kai off.
Le Kai settled into the car, eyes lingering on their smiling faces. The old men looked at him with a trust and expectation that felt almost overwhelming. He could feel the weight of it pressing down on him, heavier than any match or fan pressure he'd experienced.
He had always prided himself on his resilience, but this—the collective hope of an entire senior citizens ' community felt monumental. Just knowing that the club they supported may never win the UCL during their lifetimes felt despairing.
The Champions League.
The car moved slowly through the quiet streets. Rain began pattering on the windows, soft but steady. Le Kai watched the droplets blur the view outside, thinking of the challenge ahead.
The Champions League was the pinnacle for any player. No one could refuse it. Yet everyone knew how steep the climb would be. This wasn't just a domestic league. This was a stage where the best clubs, the finest players, and elite coaches from Europe's top leagues clashed. Only one team would emerge victorious. Only one would lift the trophy.
Martin Hughes drove silently, occasionally glancing in the rearview mirror. Compared to their departure from the nursing home, Le Kai had grown quiet, reflective. The old fans' words clearly resonated.
He remembered past greats like Fabregas and Van Persie. Both had left promising Arsenal careers behind, each faltering in pursuit of glory. Hughes despised their flight from responsibility. Yet with Le Kai, there was a sense, almost instinctive, that he could succeed.
The rain intensified, drumming on the car, filling the silence. Hughes flicked on the fog lights, wipers slicing through the droplets, eyes fixed on the road.
"What kind of stage is the Champions League Final?"
The voice startled Hughes.
Le Kai rested his chin on his arm, looking out the window. "Arsenal reached the Champions League Final before, right? You were there?"
Hughes was quiet for a moment. "I don't know exactly what it feels like as a player, but as staff, as fans, we were ecstatic."
Le Kai turned to him slowly. "How ecstatic?"
Hughes smiled. "At that time, the outer walls of North London skyscrapers were plastered with Arsenal's name. Planes flew over the city every day, trailing banners that read, 'Arsenal is Champions League!' Highbury and Emirates became pilgrimage sites. Fans came every day, believing the trophy was ours before a single whistle."
Le Kai nodded. "But we failed."
Hughes pressed his lips together. Painful to admit. "Yes. We failed. When Lehmann was sent off, my mind went blank. I didn't want to believe it, but we were incredibly close… and still, we lost."
Le Kai asked quietly, "Do you think Barcelona stole it? Many say so."
Hughes shook his head firmly. "No. They played well, we played well. But our mistakes were too big."
Silence settled in the car, thick and heavy. Le Kai seemed to be weighing something. Five minutes passed before he spoke again.
"If… and I mean if… I lead Arsenal to win the Champions League… what would that moment be like?"
Screech!
Hughes slammed the brakes, bringing the car to a sudden stop by the roadside. He gripped the wheel tightly, then turned to face Le Kai, eyes alight with fervor.
"Believe me," Hughes said, voice firm and resonant, "you will be Arsenal's legendary captain. The only legendary captain. No one will ever compare."
"Arsenal has many great captains," Le Kai replied.
"This is different," Hughes insisted. "You are different. If you take Arsenal to the Champions League, you'll be a legend. The only one. That moment… it'll feel like touching the sky."
. . .
At Colney Training Base, Pat and Le Kai pushed through another session. This one focused entirely on foot frequency. In matches, Le Kai rarely needed to dribble past opponents, but to evolve into a true box-to-box midfielder, he needed sharper technical skills.
His current footwork and agility limited his potential. Previously, Le Kai had focused solely on being a defensive midfielder, relying on strength and positioning. Now, he aimed to be an all-around midfielder, requiring both speed and control. He had improved a lot, but there was more to be done.
Pat's plan was simple but brutal: fat reduction and foot frequency. Le Kai's weight slowed lateral movement, hindered quick changes of direction, and delayed center-of-gravity transfers.
To perform at the level he envisioned, the next phase of Project Kai began. He needed to lose weight, improve speed, and adapt his game to a more dynamic, unpredictable style.
Although trimming down would cost him some edge in physical duels, Le Kai knew he had to sacrifice something if he wanted to become a complete midfielder.
Under the afternoon sun at Colney, he trained alone on a separate grid, sweat pouring down his face and soaking through his shirt.
Pat stood a few steps away, arms folded, expression stern. He rarely rejected Le Kai's ideas. In fact, he agreed that Kai should evolve and go beyond.
"Pat's suffering is about to begin again," goalkeeper coach Gerry Peyton joked from the sidelines.
Whenever Le Kai proposed a new objective, Pat had to design the program and go through every repetition with him. At his age, that was no small task.
Arsène Wenger smiled faintly. "Pat is enjoying this."
Gerry looked surprised. "Enjoying?"
Wenger nodded. "The stricter he is, the happier he becomes."
On the pitch, Pat's voice cut through the air. "Foot frequency too slow! Faster! Short steps! Lift your thighs!"
Le Kai gritted his teeth and moved laterally through a series of small training rings laid out on the ground. Both feet had to land inside each circle, front and back, then transition immediately into the next set. No pause. No hesitation.
By the end of one sequence, his thighs burned, heavy and tight.
After finishing a set, he dropped flat onto the grass, breathing hard, hands rubbing his thighs and calves. His legs felt numb, almost detached.
Pat walked over, glancing at his watch. "Third set done. Three more."
Le Kai kept massaging his legs. "How long before this shows in matches?"
"I don't know," Pat replied calmly. "This is only one part. You still need to lose weight."
Le Kai nodded. Discipline was not his problem.
Pat checked his watch again. "Time. Up."
Le Kai pushed himself up without another word and returned to the rings.
His low growls mixed with Pat's sharp commands drew the attention of nearby Arsenal players.
"Does the Capitan always train like that?" Ángel Di María asked, watching closely.
Chamberlain nodded. "He used to be worse."
Two extra laps. Then another hour of individual work.
Chamberlain watched with a complicated expression. Every player faced challenges during tactical evolution, but for Le Kai, adaptation seemed almost natural.
He began as a pure sweeper. Then he developed distribution. Then leadership. Now he was reshaping his body and footwork to become a true all-around midfielder.
It felt as if he kept unlocking new abilities one after another, like a game.
If Chamberlain had not seen it himself, he would have doubted it.
This was not a normal progression.
. . .
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