T/N: By now, you guys may have noticed Kanté's choppy English. I was trying to make his English broken since he mainly played in France and doesn't speak a lick of English. The broken English is him trying to adapt fast since English main language for communication in Arsenal. The choppiness will disappear as the chapters go by since his English gets better.
. . .
In the 17th round of the Premier League, Newcastle United hosted Arsenal at St James' Park.
Arsenal lined up in a 4-2-3-1:
Goalkeeper: Keylor Navas
Defenders: Calum Chambers, Per Mertesacker, Rio Ferdinand, Kieran Gibbs(C)
Def. Midfielders: Mathieu Flamini, N'Golo Kanté
Att. Midfielders: Alexis Sánchez, Jack Wilshere, Tomáš Rosický
Forward: Luis Suárez
Newcastle went with a 4-5-1 flat formation.
Goalkeeper: Tim Krul.
Defenders: Dummett, Coloccini(C), Williamson, Janmaat.
Midfielders: Gouffran, Colback, Ameobi, Tiote, Perez.
Forward: Cisse.
. . .
. .
.
Second half, and nothing had changed.
Still 0–0.
From the commentary box, Paul Merson spoke with a measured tone.
"Arsenal have rotated heavily tonight, and you can see the impact. The rhythm just isn't quite there in the final third."
Beside him, Lee Dixon nodded.
"Wilshere and Suárez have tried to link things up, but Sánchez hasn't quite clicked with them yet. It's all a bit disjointed."
Merson continued, "Rosický as well, not quite at last season's level. There's a drop in sharpness across the midfield."
On the pitch, the pattern was clear.
Arsenal had possession, but lacked the penetration to truly trouble the Magpies.
Newcastle stayed compact, disciplined, waiting for the right moment.
. . .
On the bench, Kai sat forward, elbows on his knees, eyes fixed on the game.
This was the second straight match he had been rested.
He understood the decision. Arsène Wenger was managing minutes carefully ahead of a brutal stretch.
Still, watching it unfold like this was frustrating.
Without him and Santi Cazorla in midfield, the balance was off.
Flamini and Wilshere worked hard, but it was not the same.
The structure felt loose.
. .
"Newcastle are growing into it," Cazorla murmured from beside him.
Kai nodded once, eyes narrowing.
In the center circle, Newcastle won the ball cleanly.
"They're breaking," Kai said immediately, voice tightening. "Watching from the bench is agonizing."
He leaned forward instinctively.
"Hold your shape…"
The counter came fast.
One pass wide, straight to the winger.
A burst down the flank, then a driven cross toward the box.
Papiss Cissé, Ameobi, and Gouffran all attacked the delivery.
Per Mertesacker surged forward, timing his leap perfectly. He met the ball before Cissé could arrive and powered it clear.
Kai exhaled, falling back into his seat.
Cazorla did the same.
"Good," they said almost together.
But the danger wasn't over.
Newcastle recovered the second ball immediately.
Jack Colback stepped onto it and lofted it right back into the area.
Now it turned messy.
Bodies everywhere.
This time, Rio Ferdinand stayed composed. He rose, cushioned his header, and guided it toward Kanté instead of just clearing blindly.
Kanté reacted quickly.
He turned under pressure, slightly off balance.
A touch, then a hurried pass.
The ball reached Flamini just before the press arrived.
Arsenal finally pushed out.
The counter was on.
. .
Kai relaxed slightly.
Relief.
This level would not be enough against stronger sides.
Not over ninety minutes.
His gaze shifted to Kanté.
The midfielder was drenched in sweat, breathing heavily, shoulders rising and falling with each step.
Tonight, he had been asked to do everything.
Break play, cover space, organize, and connect the lines.
Almost Kai's entire role.
And it showed.
Kanté kept moving, kept chasing, but something was off.
"Kanté's positioning…" Kai muttered. "He's thinking too much."
Brought to his attention, Cazorla studied Kanté for a while before saying. "He's trying to play like you."
Kai shook his head immediately. "That's the problem."
—
On the pitch, Kanté pressed again, but hesitated half a second too long.
The passing lane closed.
He turned back, unsure.
"Eh… where I go… left? Right…?" he whispered, frustration creeping in.
Before the match, when Wenger had given him the added responsibility, his mind had gone blank.
He had only just arrived.
A season ago, he was still in Ligue 2.
Now he was here, in the Premier League, expected to anchor a midfield.
It felt like too much.
He ran again, but it felt like something was holding onto his legs.
The game moved around him, faster than his thoughts.
He didn't know where to stand.
Beep!
The whistle cut through the noise.
Arsenal had a free kick high up the pitch.
N'Golo Kanté bent forward, hands on his knees, breathing hard. Another whistle followed, sharper this time. The referee pointed to the sideline.
Substitution.
Kanté glanced over. Kai was already waiting.
The reaction was immediate.
Boos rolled down from the stands, loud and sustained.
Kanté dropped his head as he made his way off.
"Captain…"
There was frustration in his voice.
Kai stepped forward and gave him a quick pat on the head.
"Bad game. It happens. Just got to wait for the next."
Kanté nodded, serious again.
They slapped hands and crossed paths.
Kai jogged onto the pitch, already talking.
"What ass attack is this? Legs gone? Wake up. We're getting one now. Don't worry about tracking back, I've got that."
He moved into position and set himself.
Then Kieran Gibbs came over, holding the armband.
He tied it around Kai's arm.
"Welcome, cap."
Gibbs gave a small smile and stepped away.
Kai turned, lifted his arm.
"Gunners!"
The response came instantly, louder than before.
The tempo, the intent, even the spacing looked cleaner.
Truth was, he did not need to say a word. His presence alone changed the tone.
.
On the touchline, Arsène Wenger watched with a faint smile.
He let out a slow breath. "If I played again, I'd want a captain like that."
Beside him, Pat Rice nodded. "Same here."
.
In the commentary box, Paul Merson could barely contain himself.
"Kai's on. Wenger held him back, but now he's in. Newcastle won't like this."
Across London, pubs erupted the moment he stepped onto the pitch.
For Newcastle United, the mood was different. They had done everything right so far. Now the game felt like it had reset.
"Ball's still ours. Keep playing. Give it to me," Papiss Cissé called out, trying to lift his side.
He stole a glance at Kai.
Last season had not been kind to him.
This time, he wanted it different.
.
Two minutes later.
"Shit!"
Cissé lost his balance under the contact.
By the time he turned, the ball was gone.
Number 4 in red and white was already driving forward.
The same problem as last season. Still there.
Merson's voice rose.
"Cissé's been robbed! Kai with the steal on his first action!"
"Arsenal break!"
. . .
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