FORESIGHT

"Huuuhhh…"

The sighs echoed around the Arsenal dressing room. Players slumped on the benches, boots half–untied, jerseys damp with sweat, faces still carrying the frustration of ninety minutes that had slipped through their fingers.

The scoreboard at Anfield had frozen at 1–1. A fair result on paper, perhaps, but the players knew there had been chances—moments to tilt the game their way—that had gone begging.

Opportunities wasted, decisions rushed. Against Liverpool, at Anfield of all places, that was often the difference.

"It's never easy here," someone muttered, shaking his head. The others nodded silently. Anfield had a way of reminding visitors just how stubborn it could be.

Moments later, the door swung open. Arsène Wenger, fresh from his press duties, strode in with that familiar calm presence. He clapped his hands once, sharply.

"Alright, boys!" he called out, voice carrying above the weary atmosphere. "Pack your things—we're heading back tonight."

There were a few tired chuckles, a couple of wry grins. Players began peeling themselves off the benches and shuffling toward the showers. It had been a punishing fortnight: Dortmund away in Europe, followed by Chelsea, and now Liverpool. Three high–intensity battles in succession. No wonder the legs were heavy and the minds drained.

Still, when they looked back, it was a fairytale run. Dortmund had been beaten in the Champions League. In the league, one win, one draw—it was very good.

And next up? Manchester United at home. On paper, United remained a giant, but everyone in the Arsenal camp knew they were wobbling. Dressing–room rifts, inconsistent form, questions over leadership. Quietly, the Arsenal squad felt that the match was theirs to take.

That night, the team returned to London Colney. Wenger dismissed them quickly—no speeches, no tactical rundowns. "Go home, rest. We'll regroup tomorrow."

Kai, however, didn't change his rhythm. He slipped back into his usual routine, preparing for an evening gym session. Just as he was tightening the straps on his trainers, Wenger appeared again.

"Sky Sports wants a word," the manager said. "Get yourself ready for an interview."

Kai nodded without fuss. Media attention no longer came as a surprise. Wenger, once cautious about exposing him too soon, now encouraged it. The club was even considering tailoring an image around him—Arsenal's own poster boy. Kai had refused.

He didn't want the celebrity trimmings, the idol pressure. Let others chase the spotlight. For him, it was simple: train, play, improve.

The interview was set up in the gym. When Kai arrived, Wenger was already seated in front of the cameras, chatting amiably with a stout man whose rounded nose and ruddy cheeks made him instantly recognizable. The crew was bustling around, checking mics, adjusting lights.

As soon as Kai stepped through the doors, the man stood, waving warmly. "Kai! Over here!"

Kai adjusted his tracksuit and walked across. The staff quickly arranged the seats into a neat triangle: Wenger on one side, the broadcaster opposite, and a chair left vacant in between for Kai.

Before Kai sat down, Wenger casually pulled his own chair closer, narrowing the distance between himself and his player. A small gesture, but one not lost on the broadcaster, who smiled to himself. Details like that said more than words about how highly Wenger valued Kai.

Once Kai settled into his chair, the man leaned forward and extended his hand. "Let me introduce myself—Paul Merson, Sky Sports."

Kai shook firmly, returning the smile. "A pleasure, Mr. Merson. I've heard plenty of your analysis."

Merson chuckled. "Let's hope you haven't held it against me then. I can be a bit blunt at times."

"Honest opinions are always welcome," Kai replied with a nod.

The crew gave a signal—mics live, cameras rolling. Wenger adjusted his jacket, Merson cleared his throat, and the conversation was about to begin.

At that moment, Wenger leaned back slightly and said with a small smile, "You know, he was one of the first players I managed when I took charge of Arsenal."

Kai blinked, clearly surprised. He studied the man sitting across from him—Paul Merson, once a mercurial midfielder, now thicker around the waist, his features softened by years of punditry and post-retirement indulgence. It was difficult for Kai to reconcile this cheerful figure with the legend he'd read about.

Merson chuckled, lifting his eyebrows. "And I was also one of the first ones he showed the door to."

That earned laughter from both men. Even Wenger, usually so composed, allowed himself a quiet laugh as he shifted in his seat and crossed his legs.

"If it hadn't been for your drinking problem," Wenger teased lightly, "I wouldn't have had to let you go."

Merson grinned and spread his hands in mock protest. "You may as well have asked me to give up living! Look at footballers nowadays—every calorie counted, every pound measured, train morning, noon, and night. No room for mischief, no room for a pint. Where's the joy in that?"

Kai shook his head with a small smile. "For me, the training is the joy. That's the happiness."

Merson gave him a look of disbelief, then waved the topic away with a clap of his hands. "Alright, enough philosophy. Time to get down to business."

The cameras were set. The lights dimmed slightly, leaving Wenger and Kai in the focus of the shot. Merson shuffled through his cue cards, the familiar hum of a production crew moving in the background.

He began with Wenger, easing him into a discussion about Arsenal's current form, the challenges of the season, and his broader views on how football might evolve in the next decade. Wenger spoke at length, his words deliberate and thoughtful, often expanding beyond the immediate to the philosophy of the game itself.

Kai, sitting quietly beside him, listened intently, only nodding occasionally. But soon enough, Merson pivoted, cards in hand, eyes narrowing in mock seriousness.

"Right," he said. "Now to the real reason I've camped out at London Colney three times this month. Our main guest—the young man Arsenal fans are calling the 'little captain'… Kai!"

The camera zoomed in slightly, and Kai gave a small, awkward glance at the lens before asking, "Do I need to… say hello?"

Merson chuckled. "No, no, relax. Just a chat."

"Alright then," Kai nodded, trying to settle himself.

Merson lifted the first card. "Let's start with the obvious. What do you make of Arsenal at this moment in time?"

Kai hesitated, instinctively glancing toward Wenger, who simply shrugged and gestured for him to speak freely.

"My opinion won't change much," Kai began carefully. "But what matters is why we're here. Players come to clubs either for money or for honour. At Arsenal, it's about honour—at least, that's what I believe. And right now, I think we're doing well. The squad is hungry, united, and every one of us wants to win something meaningful."

Merson tilted his head, as though unsure if Kai was being earnest or diplomatic, but before he could push further, Kai continued.

"When I think of Arsenal," Merson asked, moving to the next card, "what's the very first thing that comes to mind?"

In Kai's head, a mischievous voice muttered, Fourth place, fourth place, fourth place.

But he gave a small shake of his head and replied firmly: "Wenger. To me, Arsenal is the Professor. It's natural. I think most people would say the same."

Wenger's lips curled into a soft smile, his eyes warm with pride.

Merson, ever quick, raised his brows. "Funny, because after you scored that winning penalty in the FA Cup final, you sprinted straight to Pat Rice. Gave him the biggest hug of your life!"

Kai froze for a second, a faint awkwardness creeping over his face.

"That's perfectly normal," Wenger interjected smoothly. "In training, I'm the one proposing ideas. But Pat and Kai, they're the implementers. They work side by side. That closeness builds naturally."

Merson nodded, then leaned forward. "So, Arsène… is he your pride?"

Wenger didn't hesitate. "Of course. Absolutely. For years, I regretted missing out on a certain genius from Portugal… but in Kai, I've gained something different. Something better for us."

Merson grinned knowingly. Wenger wasn't claiming Kai was greater than Cristiano Ronaldo—no. What he meant was simpler: the players you've raised yourself are always the best.

"One last one, gentlemen," Merson said, tapping his final card. "Goals for this season?"

Wenger was first to reply. "Champions League qualification—that's the priority."

No shock in the studio. It was pragmatic, expected.

But when the question turned to Kai, he scratched the back of his head, hesitating only briefly. "Look, I think every player has the same dream. It's the championship. Yes, we're not yet at the same level as some of the giants, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't aim for it. Whether we succeed or not, the important thing is that we try. That's what football is about."

His voice grew firmer, his eyes fixed on the camera. "I don't know if we'll get there, or when, but we'll keep chasing it. My teammates are incredible; they work unbelievably hard. With the Professor's guidance, we'll keep getting stronger. So no matter what, don't give up. I can't promise I'll lift every trophy, but that's my life goal—to fight for them."

When he finished, Kai looked sheepishly at Merson. "Did I go on too long?"

Merson shook his head, smiling. "Not at all. Well said."

Wenger chuckled beside him and pointed lightly toward Kai. "He's just set me a higher target than I gave myself."

The Frenchman drew in a long breath, then allowed himself a rare vow. "Very well. I'll raise my goal too. Before I finish my time here, I'll make sure this Arsenal team lifts a major trophy again."

The cameras clicked off. The interview wrapped.

As they walked out together toward the training ground, Kai finally let out a sigh. "Did we set the bar too high?"

Wenger shook his head gently. "No, Kai. This is good."

"So pressure really is motivation?"

Wenger paused, giving him a sidelong glance. "That depends on who applies it."

Kai frowned, puzzled.

The Professor smiled, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry. You'll understand in time. And when the day comes, I'll be standing beside you. Because that stage—Kai—that's where you belong."

Alternate tile: Pressure Is Motivational