Early morning on a quiet hillside road in the London suburbs.
Drizzles of rain fell over the narrow road as two figures jogged uphill, one slightly ahead of the other.
Each breath left a faint cloud of mist in the cool air.
The runner in front maintained a steady rhythm.
The one behind struggled to keep the pace.
Kai slowed slightly and glanced back.
"We're only halfway. Are you already thinking about quitting?"
Wilshere's face looked pale, and his breathing was uneven. Years of alcohol, late nights, and careless habits had taken their toll. Rebuilding his fitness would not be easy.
Wilshere had asked Kai for help.
Kai's response had been simple.
Run.
Step by step.
Slowly rebuild everything.
Whether Wilshere could keep up was another question entirely.
Wilshere tightened his lips and shook his head.
"I'm not quitting."
Kai nodded once and turned forward again, continuing up the road.
They ran all the way to the halfway point on the hill before finally stopping.
Wilshere leaned heavily against the guardrail, gasping for air.
His chest rose and fell violently.
For a moment, he felt like his lungs might burst.
"You run like this… every day?"
His words came out in fragments.
Kai stretched his arms and nodded.
"This is basic conditioning."
Wilshere muttered something under his breath before speaking again.
"Now I understand why you've improved so quickly."
Kai lifted his chin slightly.
"I'm a genius."
Wilshere grinned weakly.
"A hardworking genius, then."
Kai shrugged.
"Still a genius."
After a moment, he pointed at Wilshere's legs.
"You should stretch."
Wilshere waved him off.
"I can't even lift my legs right now. Give me a minute."
About ten minutes later, the rain began to ease.
The clouds in the east slowly opened, and a band of fiery color appeared along the horizon.
Kai looked toward the sky.
"It's clearing up."
Wilshere followed his gaze.
Down the hill below, thick mist drifted through the trees. Under the rising sunlight, the fog seemed to glow like faint flames.
Wilshere stared quietly.
"It's beautiful."
He realized he had never really seen scenery like this before.
Maybe hiking was not such a bad idea after all.
Kai eventually clapped his hands lightly.
"Alright. Time to head down."
Wilshere raised an eyebrow.
"Run down?"
Kai shook his head.
"Walk."
The two made their way down the hillside side by side.
Eventually, they arrived at Kai's house.
Wilshere casually walked to his car, grabbed a bag from the back seat, and headed straight inside.
Kai stood at the door watching him.
"You're not going home?"
Wilshere answered without hesitation.
"No. The kids are staying with my parents today. I'll shower here, then we'll go to the training ground together."
Kai stared at him for a moment.
You really are making yourself comfortable.
Kai had not prepared breakfast that morning.
Wilshere rubbed his stomach.
"No breakfast?"
Kai shook his head.
"Eat at the training ground. I'm cutting weight."
Wilshere blinked, then nodded.
Right. He had forgotten about that.
Later, the two drove to the training ground together and headed straight to the cafeteria.
Kai's breakfast was simple. Mostly vegetables, with controlled portions. He planned to eat some meat at lunch to keep his energy levels stable.
Wilshere's plate looked very different.
After the exhausting run, his appetite had returned with force.
Once they finished eating, it was only nine in the morning.
Wilshere watched as Kai stood up and walked toward the changing room.
"You're not training again already, are you?"
Kai answered as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
"Ball control drills. Coming?"
Wilshere gave a crooked smile.
"Isn't that basic stuff?"
Kai chuckled.
"You keep practicing the basics so they never fade."
So Wilshere followed him onto the training pitch.
Under Kai's lead, the two began ball control drills.
However, one thing quickly became obvious.
Compared to Kai's relatively rough technique, Wilshere's control was extremely refined.
His movements were smooth and precise.
At first, Wilshere tried to stay quiet.
Eventually, he could not hold it in anymore.
"Hey," he called out. "Your center of gravity is all wrong. Who taught you that?"
Kai stopped and looked at him.
"You do know I'm not as good as you."
Wilshere stared at him in disbelief.
He flicked the ball up with his foot, tapping it lightly twice.
"Watch carefully."
With that, Wilshere began the cone dribbling drill.
His style was completely different from Kai's.
Where Kai focused on strength and stability, Wilshere relied on quick balance shifts and deceptive movement.
His body feints were sharp.
His footwork was light.
When he reached the rapid footwork section, he finished several seconds faster than Kai.
The entire sequence looked effortless.
After finishing, Wilshere stopped the ball under his foot and looked quite satisfied.
"See it?"
Kai rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"How much do you weigh?"
Wilshere blinked.
"Sixty-seven kilograms."
Kai nodded slowly.
"That's about a sixteen-kilogram difference."
As a defensive midfielder, Kai needed physical strength and presence in midfield battles. Matching Wilshere's agility was not realistic.
Still, he knew he needed to lose at least four or five kilograms to improve his flexibility.
The two continued training.
Gradually, Arsenal's players began arriving at the training ground one by one.
When they saw Kai and Wilshere practicing together, several of them froze.
Their expressions looked as if they had just seen something impossible.
"What's going on?" one player whispered.
"How should I know?"
"How did those two end up training together?"
"Is the world ending?"
Soon, Santi Cazorla, Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain, Alexis Sánchez, and several others gathered nearby.
They pretended to pass the ball between themselves, but their eyes remained fixed on Kai and Wilshere.
Their quiet chatter never stopped.
Kai and Wilshere naturally noticed the attention.
Wilshere glanced toward the group.
"They look shocked."
Kai nodded.
"For them, this situation shouldn't exist."
Wilshere shrugged with a faint smile.
"I'd love to hear what they're saying."
Kai turned toward him.
"Stop worrying about them. Focus on yourself."
He added calmly.
"You only signed a one-year deal."
Wilshere's shoulders immediately sagged.
"Thanks for reminding me."
Not long after, Arsène Wenger arrived with the rest of the coaching staff.
He walked onto the pitch and looked around the group of players.
"Everyone, gather up," he called out.
"Training match."
The Arsenal players quickly split into two groups on the training pitch, preparing for the internal training match.
Arsène Wenger stood on the touchline, quietly observing while giving instructions to the coaching staff.
"Make sure you record the players' data carefully today," he said.
Then he turned specifically toward Pat Rice.
"You'll monitor Wilshere's numbers."
Pat nodded.
"And Kai?"
Wenger waved his hand lightly.
"Let someone else record his. Kai's performance is already stable."
Pat gave a small nod.
"I understand."
The training match soon began.
The intensity was high. Players knew Wenger would use these sessions to evaluate their form and decide the starting lineup for the next fixture.
Arsenal's opponent in Premier League Round 9 would be Sunderland, away from home.
Fortunately, Arsenal's recent schedule had been relatively comfortable. There were no major rivals in the immediate run of fixtures, which gave Wenger some freedom to rotate his squad.
For the Sunderland match, he was already considering several adjustments.
The attacking line would remain mostly unchanged, but in defense, he planned to start the Flamini and Per Mertesacker partnership again.
At the same time, Laurent Koscielny and Shkodran Mustafi would still receive minutes later in the match to maintain their rhythm.
Wenger had learned from experience.
If the reserves never played, they would lose sharpness. If the starters never rested, their form would eventually drop as well.
Balance was everything.
. . .
On October 25, the Arsenal squad traveled north to Sunderland, located in Tyne and Wear.
Although Sunderland had officially been granted city status in 1992, its population was only around 170,000. Many people still referred to it more as a large town than a major city.
Across the United Kingdom, aside from a few large metropolitan areas, most places maintained that traditional town structure.
In recent years, Sunderland's football performance has declined steadily.
Relegation battles had become a regular part of their seasons.
Almost every year, they fought desperately to stay in the Premier League.
This season had started even worse.
After eight rounds, their record stood at one win, five losses, and two draws.
In the seventh round, they had suffered an embarrassing 8–0 defeat against Southampton.
Now they were facing Arsenal, the reigning Premier League holders.
For Sunderland, the situation looked grim.
If they had already taken a heavy blow earlier in the season, this match threatened to make things even worse.
And unfortunately for them, that was exactly how it began.
Only twenty minutes had passed when Arsenal scored their third goal.
Three goals in twenty minutes.
Almost one goal every seven minutes.
Sunderland's players already looked disoriented, and the early goals only deepened their confusion.
Even the Arsenal players seemed surprised by how easy the match had become.
From the opening whistle, Sunderland appeared distracted, almost absent.
After a brief probing attack, Arsenal pushed forward once and scored with little resistance.
The entire defensive sequence from Sunderland felt strangely passive.
Their goalkeeper fought desperately to keep the score respectable, but the defenders in front of him looked hesitant and slow.
Some barely moved at all.
On the commentary feed, Paul Merson sounded puzzled.
"Arsenal have been clinical, but Sunderland's defending has been very strange, Charlie. They look completely out of sorts."
Charlie Nicholas responded thoughtfully.
"It's difficult to understand, Paul. Arsenal are sharp, no doubt about that, but Sunderland look mentally somewhere else. There's very little organization in that back line."
After conceding three goals, Sunderland's performance deteriorated further.
Their attack was weak.
Passes frequently went astray.
Defensive decisions were slow and uncertain.
At times, it felt like the Sunderland players were merely spectators on the pitch.
Kai noticed something else as well.
Not long after the third goal, two Sunderland players began arguing loudly with each other right in front of him.
Their voices rose as they pointed fingers and blamed each other for the mistakes.
Kai glanced at them briefly before jogging away to reposition.
From the look of things, Sunderland's problems were not just tactical.
Something inside their dressing room was clearly broken.
. . .
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