After the last incident, Kai's status in the locker room had quietly shifted.
That's not to say his words suddenly carried weight, but still, nobody wanted to mess with him anymore.
The memory of what happened was still fresh for everyone.
And judging by how the coaching staff handled things, it was clear that Kai had a place in their plans.
With the noise dying down, his training was once again a priority.
He'd been pushing himself hard over the past few months.
In nearly three months, his weight had reached an acceptable level, yet he maintained impressive flexibility.
The most noticeable change, though, was in his core strength. His powerful core and improved balance had transformed Kai into a relentless force in midfield.
Even first-team regulars had started avoiding him during scrimmages.
His defensive presence—especially his tackles and interceptions—had become unnervingly sharp, aided by his ability to hold his ground in physical duels.
At present, as long as Kai was on the pitch, the defensive triangle he formed with Ramsey and the fullbacks gave the entire backline an added sense of security.
Still, Song remained the starting midfielder, so public praise for Kai was restrained.
But the senior players were already making quiet comparisons in their minds.
Everything at Arsenal seemed to be moving in the right direction.
It was as if all the turbulence from before was beginning to fade.
In the league, they pulled off a 5–3 win away at Chelsea.
That victory over the Blues significantly boosted team morale.
Van Persie, in particular, delivered a hat-trick and sealed the match with a dramatic winner, living up to his reputation as team leader.
After such a performance, Arsenal fans were filled with renewed optimism.
And in this atmosphere of excitement, the season rolled on to matchday 11.
Thanks to their excellent form, Arsenal had climbed the league table rapidly.
They now sat seventh, and the momentum was unmistakable.
Many were beginning to believe this Arsenal side could make its way back to the top.
This week, they were at home against West Brom.
Historically, the two teams had faced off 124 times, with Arsenal recording 60 wins, 29 draws, and 35 losses. The Gunners had scored 216 goals and conceded 163—clearly holding the upper hand.
Arsenal supporters knew it too.
The Emirates Stadium was buzzing that day.
Now, in November, the weather had started turning colder.
Kai came bundled up in long pants and a thick down jacket.
Despite being from the Northeast, he understood just how important it was to stay warm.
Billy, on the other hand, strolled along in short sleeves, a denim vest, hot pants, and flip-flops, clutching a wine bottle like he was on holiday.
The fans' outfits on the street varied just as wildly—either wrapped up like Kai or barely dressed like Billy.
Typical of the awkward British weather.
This time, they didn't drive. Instead, they took the Tube.
Billy had said that if he were alone, he'd have driven, but as a newcomer, Kai needed to experience the matchday atmosphere properly.
And he wasn't wrong—the vibe was electric.
The closer they got to Arsenal Station and Holloway Road, the denser the crowd of Gooners became.
You didn't even need directions to the Emirates—you were practically carried there by the crowd.
Vendors lined the route, selling everything from jerseys and scarves to autographed memorabilia and even imitation trophies.
Kai was even stopped by a seller asking if he wanted to buy a jersey.
Please, he thought, I have my own jersey. He then rejected the vendor politely.
Just a few steps later, he noticed a group of what looked like fellow countrymen gathered around a stall, eagerly picking through Arsenal gear—probably tourists here for their first "pilgrimage."
Truth be told, Kai had wanted to wear a jersey too, to feel like part of the crowd.
But Billy told him it wasn't necessary—real Arsenal fans didn't need to wear jerseys or scarves, he claimed.
So Kai gave up on the idea.
Billy, meanwhile, kept drinking. Kai tried to stop him, but Billy insisted that you needed to be at least a little tipsy to enjoy the full matchday experience.
Kai didn't know if that was true or just an excuse, but he let it go.
Eventually, they joined the sea of fans entering the stadium.
It was Kai's first time at the Emirates.
The stadium was sleek and oval-shaped, mostly white and gray, with the massive Arsenal crest front and center.
Posters were everywhere—some featuring individual players, others showcasing the team.
Van Persie had the largest one, placed right at the center.
It showed his back arms stretched wide, with the number 10 boldly displayed, leading Arsenal's charge.
Not every first-teamer got a solo poster. Only the club's most beloved or well-known players earned that spotlight.
So far, only a few had them—Van Persie, Walcott, Vermaelen, and Szczęsny.
Kai stood among the crowd, staring up at Van Persie's giant image with a glint in his eyes.
He looked for a while before Billy urged him forward.
The stands were awash in red—Arsenal's signature color.
People kept pouring in, and before long, all 60,700 seats were filled.
From that moment, the Emirates stopped feeling like just another stadium.
Arsenal flags rippled through the air. The sound rolled across the stands like waves.
The players hadn't even stepped onto the pitch yet, but the chants had already begun:
"This is Arsenal, Arsenal Football Club!"
"Onwards we go, cannons blazing!"
" We love you, Arsenal, we do!"
"We have Robin Van Persie!"
"Thomas Vermaelen!"
"Getting better every day!"
"Let's forget the bad times!"
"Come on, you Gunners!"
Kai felt the surge of adrenaline rise from his toes to his head.
He had played professional football before, sure—but the Premier League atmosphere was something else entirely unless Sporting CP played against its rivals.
Those crowds were unreal.
Even just sitting in the stands, he could feel the blood rushing through him. He couldn't imagine how fired up the players on the pitch must've been. He really missed such atmospheres.
The three of them had front-row seats on the lower tier.
Arsenal didn't have a designated die-hard section like Liverpool's. Their most devoted fans preferred the corners, where they could celebrate close to the players.
Billy chose these seats so Kai could get the best experience.
At today's ticket prices, these spots probably cost a fortune.
Soon, the players emerged from the tunnel.
The moment the West Brom team appeared, the home fans erupted in a wave of boos—so loud it felt like the visitors might be swallowed whole.
Kai licked his dry lips. His heart was racing.
He wished he could sub in for Song and get out there himself.
Then, the whistle blew. The match began.
Arsenal came out swinging.
They attacked aggressively from the get-go, their energy far surpassing anything Kai had seen in training.
Just 22 minutes in, Van Persie opened the scoring.
He slid into the corner flag to celebrate as fans roared around him.
From his seat, Kai could feel the sound crashing in from all directions—it was like a volcano erupting.
Even he couldn't help but join in the celebration, shouting along with the crowd.
He hadn't grown up an Arsenal fan. He wasn't even a self-proclaimed Gunner.
But ever since joining the club, he'd started to feel a connection.
He cheered when they won. Felt the sting when they lost.
Right now, his heart and Arsenal's felt aligned—completely in sync.
The goals kept coming.
In the 39th minute, Vermaelen—returning from a long injury spell—scored with a powerful header off a corner.
The fans exploded with even more energy.
The stadium announcer roared, "Thomas Vermaelen! Vermaelen forever! Arsenal's defensive rock—and look at him attack!"
The crowd thundered back: "Thomas Vermaelen!"
Kai joined in, shouting till his throat hurt. Everything else faded away.
And Arsenal weren't done yet.
In the 87th minute, Van Persie missed a golden chance—but Arteta followed through and slammed it home.
3–0.
Arteta, arms raised, soaked in the applause from the ecstatic crowd.
His first Premier League match watch couldn't have gone better.
Kai watched from the stands as Arteta clapped in return.
In Arsenal's toughest years, Arteta had stayed.
The club had offered him little—yet he moved forward without regret.
For that alone, he deserved every bit of the fans' applause.