T/N:
I am back. The preparations for my mother's funeral are almost done. With her burial being in July. Certain procedures and African traditions are to be upheld, causing the date to be pushed back.
On the bright side of things, I will start chapter uploads. Again, thank you, and sorry for the wait.
It filled me with joy when I read your well-wishes. Thank you very much for them.
. . .
Le Kai looked completely at ease in central midfield.
Once he understood how to organize attacks, that earlier hesitation disappeared. From a higher position, his passing became more dangerous. When he played as a defensive midfielder, he still joined the attack, but everything took longer to develop. Now, he could act instantly.
The passes came quicker and sharper. His teammates were caught off guard at first, but they adjusted fast. The result mattered.
On the other side, Ledley was struggling.
He wiped sweat from his face, trying to stay close. It was not working.
"This isn't normal," he muttered under his breath.
He had expected someone like Santi Cazorla. A player who would carry the ball, slow things down, and give him a moment to react.
Le Kai gave him nothing.
Ledley clenched his jaw.
"I can't read him."
At the back, Mathieu Flamini rose well and nodded the ball forward.
Le Kai moved toward it, unhurried.
Ledley stayed tight behind him, eyes fixed.
"Don't turn," he muttered.
Le Kai glanced left.
"Left?" Ledley shifted instinctively.
In that split second, Le Kai flicked the ball with the outside of his foot toward Sanchez.
Ledley froze.
By the time he reacted, Le Kai was already moving forward again.
"Stay with him!" someone shouted.
Ledley followed, trying to match every step.
Le Kai slowed. Then stopped. Then went again.
Ledley scoffed. You won't shake me like that.
Le Kai exhaled quietly. His off-the-ball movements were not perfect yet, but he did not need to be perfect.
He raised his hand.
"Here!"
Sanchez delivered the pass immediately.
Ledley stepped in, ready to intercept.
But Le Kai shifted across his path, using his body to shield.
"Move!" Ledley barked, pushing hard.
Le Kai held his ground.
"Not today," he said under his breath.
The ball rolled into his stride.
Ledley lunged.
Le Kai stepped forward, rolled his foot over the ball, and then turned his head.
A backheel no-look pass.
Ledley blinked.
The ball was gone.
A sharp strike cut through the air.
They both turned.
The ball flew past the goalkeeper's fingertips and into the net.
Silence, then noise.
Ledley stood still, mouth slightly open.
Le Kai gave a small wink to Ledley and jogged to celebrate Walcott's goal.
In the stands, the Arsenal fans erupted.
. .
On the touchline, Arsène Wenger remained still for a moment, then glanced at Pat Rice.
Pat spoke first.
"I'm starting to think that position suits him more."
Wenger folded his arms.
"It's tempting," he admitted. "Very tempting."
Wenger exhaled slowly.
"If I didn't know what he could do defensively…" he said quietly, "I might have moved him forward permanently."
Pat nodded.
"But you won't."
"No," Wenger replied. "Modern football doesn't work that way anymore. The game is deeper now. "
"The control comes from behind. Something I learnt the hard way." Wenger added.
He looked back at the pitch.
"He has to become complete."
Pat gave a small smile.
"Then I suppose we've seen another layer today."
Wenger turned toward the bench.
"Make the substitution. We've seen enough."
Arsène Wenger gave a small wave toward the bench.
Arsenal moved quickly. Santi Cazorla came on, and Kai made his way off the pitch.
As he reached the touchline, the Arsenal fans rose to applaud. The response from the Crystal Palace crowd was less kind, but Kai paid no attention. He was smiling.
That had been fun.
"Towel."
He took it from Pat Rice, wiped his face, then glanced back at the pitch.
"I could've stayed on a bit longer."
Pat shook his head.
"You've had your run. That's not your position."
Kai let out a quiet laugh, though there was still a hint of reluctance in it.
He knew Pat was right, but the feeling lingered.
As a defensive midfielder, his focus was always on control and protection. He thought about positioning, timing, and cutting off attacks. It was measured and disciplined.
But higher up the pitch, it was different.
Watching those passes slice through lines again and again brought a different kind of satisfaction.
Now he understood why some players chased that feeling.
Kai glanced sideways.
"Maybe let me try the wing next time?"
Pat stopped and stared at him.
"You're getting ahead of yourself."
Kai grinned, but he did not back down.
"You wanted me to do everything, right?"
Pat sighed.
"There's a difference between versatility and overreaching."
He folded his arms.
"The wing is harder than it looks. Out there, it's you against a fullback, sometimes two. You need pace, tight control, and quick changes of direction. One mistake and you lose the ball."
Kai listened, still smiling, but more quietly now.
"Right now, you'd get closed down before you even turned," Pat continued. "Central midfield suits your vision. The wing demands something else."
"Pace and dribbling are things you lack for that role."
Kai nodded.
"Not yet, then."
"Not yet," Pat confirmed.
Out on the pitch, the match wound down. Crystal Palace tried to respond, but Arsenal stayed in control.
In the 89th minute, Arsenal struck again.
Up in the gantry, Lee Dixon leaned forward.
"That's game over. Professional performance from Arsenal."
Beside him, Paumorel Merson added,
"They've managed it well. And Kai in midfield earlier was magnificent. Hope we see mor of that."
The final whistle followed soon after.
2–0.
. . .
In the post-match press conference, the focus was clear.
Kai's role.
A reporter raised the question directly.
"Will he continue in central midfield?"
Wenger did not hesitate.
"Kai's position will not change. We are simply exploring different options with him."
Pens moved quickly across notepads.
"He has shown similar qualities in training," Wenger continued. "This performance is not a surprise to us. He will return to his usual role. That remains his responsibility."
The room accepted it without much resistance.
Wenger kept a straight face throughout.
Behind the scenes, only a few knew how tempting that experiment had really been.
. . .
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