After the first training match, Kai began appearing regularly in the lineup for the main team training.
Every time he was on the pitch, the team's overall performance improved noticeably.
It wasn't just his passion for the game—it felt like the team's whole rhythm shifted.
Arsenal remained Arsenal, but there was something subtly different about them now. A certain spark.
That difference made Wenger value Kai even more.
The club continued to press the Ministry of Labour to expedite the hearing process.
Wenger was eager to use Kai this season.
Two or three seasons of development might polish him into something special—and if things went well, perhaps even more than that.
But no news came from the hearing, leaving Wenger feeling powerless.
Having a promising talent and no way to give him match experience was deeply frustrating.
The nurturing spirit inside Wenger had already awakened.
He had developed many talented players before, and now, he didn't mind raising a new core figure for Arsenal.
Kai's potential certainly seemed to justify it.
In the Premier League, Arsenal beat Swansea 1–0 in the fourth round, offering a brief respite amid media pressure.
But the relief didn't last long. They lost away to Blackburn, and criticism flared up again.
A 3–0 home win against Bolton brought a brief calm in the sixth round.
Then came the seventh round: the North London Derby—Tottenham Hotspur vs. Arsenal.
A 2–1 loss triggered another media firestorm.
The team's form was like a roller coaster.
Win at home, lose away.
Public opinion swung wildly—sometimes hostile, sometimes quiet.
As for praise?
That was out of the question.
Silence was the best the fans would offer—and even that felt generous.
Truth be told, Arsenal's performance wasn't worthy of applause.
After eight rounds, they sat 10th in the table with three wins, one draw, and four losses.
Top of the Table:
Manchester City – 7 wins, 1 draw, 0 losses – 22 pts
Manchester United – 6 wins, 2 draws, 0 losses – 20 pts
Chelsea – 6 wins, 1 draw, 1 loss – 19 pts
Newcastle United – 4 wins, 4 draws, 0 losses – 16 pts
Liverpool – 4 wins, 2 draws, 2 losses – 14 pts
Tottenham Hotspur – 4 wins, 1 draw, 2 losses – 13 pts
Five of the Big Six occupied five of the top six spots, with Newcastle making waves early in the season.
Meanwhile, Arsenal found themselves with a disastrous start, clawing their way up from the bottom.
October 22 – Oak Bar
Kai and Billy stepped into the Oak Bar once again.
"A glass of water," said Kai.
"Just a juice for me, thanks," Billy added.
They slid onto the bench. Kai glanced around.
"Quieter than usual today."
Kelvin Meadows scoffed from behind the bar. "All those fair-weather fans ran off to watch the game live. No staying power, I tell ya."
Kai chuckled. "Why not join them?"
"Not a chance," Meadows grunted. "As long as Wenger's still managing, I'm not setting foot in the stadium. Can't stand soft-hearted managers."
Kai shrugged. "Things might turn around soon."
"Water! Juice!" Meadows pushed the drinks over, then leaned on the bar. "By the way, I've been meaning to ask—when are you gonna play?"
Kai sighed. "Still waiting on the work permit. The hearing hasn't happened yet."
"What position do you play?"
Kai opened his mouth, but Meadows raised a hand. "No, wait. Let me guess."
He sized Kai up—his bulked-up frame, powerful legs, and clear signs of gym work.
"Defender. You've bulked up like one."
Kai laughed. "I used to be. But now I'm playing in midfield."
"Defensive mid?" Meadows asked, then smirked. "Trying to become the next Song?"
Kai raised an eyebrow. "Should I take that as a compliment?"
For some players, becoming someone like Song would be a big achievement.
But Song was never truly among the elite.
"Talking to you is no fun," Meadows muttered, waving a hand dismissively.
Kai grinned. "If I start playing, will you come watch me?"
Meadows snorted. "Depends on how good you are."
Then he added, "If you want me in the stands, you'd better play like Vieira."
Kai laughed. "A world-class midfielder, huh? Can you wait ten years?"
Meadows rolled his eyes and turned away.
He was a controversial figure among Arsenal fans.
Some saw him as the "Last Watcher." Others dismissed him as "Graham's Remnant."
His fallout with Wenger had fractured one of the largest fan groups, the Black Jersey organization.
Without him leading chants, the group struggled to recruit new members.
Some of the old guard still secretly went to games.
Meadows knew but didn't say anything.
It wasn't a major schism, but it wasn't trivial either.
A clash of philosophies—nothing more, nothing less.
But Meadows stood firm.
He wouldn't return until Arsenal played with heart—or Wenger left.
...
Ninth Round – Emirates Stadium
Despite angry chants like "Arsenal! Wake the f##k up!", the stadium was packed.
Because beneath the anger, the fans still loved the club.
It's that same love that made the disappointments harder to bear.
But recent wins were helping soften the mood.
Against their latest opponent, Arsenal played aggressively.
They scored three, conceding just one through an own goal.
Arsenal looked like itself again.
Van Persie scored twice in the second half to seal the win.
At the post-match press conference, Wenger finally broke his silence.
He admitted the early-season form was disappointing but believed the team had turned a corner.
Asked about season goals, he didn't hesitate.
"Our goal is a European spot."
That wasn't just ambition—it was necessity.
Arsenal needed the revenue and exposure from European competitions to stay afloat.
Without it—and with such a tight-fisted owner—the club would fall into decay.
...
The next morning, Kai arrived early for training.
But something had changed—there was one more person beside him during warmups.
Chamberlain had shaved his head, reset himself, and was starting over.
Kai was glad. Chamberlain was his closest friend at Arsenal.
He threw himself into training alongside Kai, and the progress showed.
Wenger even gave him two more match appearances.
Chamberlain was over the moon—he'd thought his career was dead after Old Trafford.
With his energy restored, he became cheerful and loud again.
As training camp began, Kai and Chamberlain entered the locker room together.
The room fell silent.
Kai glanced around, then walked quietly to his locker.
Chamberlain followed closely.
Wherever they passed, players wore awkward expressions.
They were being isolated.
At first, Kai hadn't noticed the tension. But by the time he did, it was too late.
Szczesny pulled him aside and spilled the truth.
"Song's been talking behind your back."
It was childish—but effective.
Song, having been at the club for four years, had stronger ties with the team.
And his method of isolating Kai was simple: "Anyone who talks to Kai doesn't talk to me."
Kai found it ridiculous.
He'd expected open conflict or maybe a confrontation.
But instead, Playground politics.
Still, many teammates chose to chat with Kai discreetly when Song wasn't looking.
Kai didn't bother confronting the issue.
Why waste time on someone who'd be gone soon?
Compared to Song, the real issue was with the newcomers.
Chamberlain mentioned multiple times that the South Korean striker had played dirty in training.
He'd even injured Chamberlain once.
The club gave Park Joo-young a warning.
He apologized, but nothing changed.
Soon after, he got close to Song—probably under his influence.
Or maybe he just thought Kai and Chamberlain were easy targets.
Kai didn't know what was going through his head.
But as long as Park didn't cross the line, Kai decided to stay silent.