"Full time at the Etihad," Martin Taylor announced, his voice carrying the buzz of a tense evening. "Manchester City and Arsenal have fought to a stalemate. Ninety minutes played, no goals, and in truth, both sides will feel they've left something out there."
Alan Smith chimed in. "City, in particular, will be the most frustrated. Their new manager, Manuel Pellegrini, promised a more adventurous, fluid brand of football after the rather rigid Mancini era. Tonight, though, it still looked a work in progress—plenty of possession but not enough incision."
Martin added, "You could see what Pellegrini wanted: a passing, free-flowing City. But Arsenal, well-drilled in their own brand of quick passing and movement, were rarely stretched. They read City like a well-thumbed book, Kai in particular sniffing out their intentions before they even took shape."
Alan chuckled. "Yes, you almost felt Kai could see the plays three seconds early. He won't say that publicly, of course, but you could tell."
As the final whistle faded and the crowd's murmur settled, players from both sides began to drift toward the tunnel. Kai was halfway there when a familiar voice called out.
"Hey! Kai!"
He turned to see Yaya Touré striding over, a broad man cutting through the cool Manchester night.
"You're defending as stubborn as ever," Yaya said, extending a hand.
Kai clasped it firmly, smiling. "And your runs forward nearly gave us a heart attack more than once."
They exchanged a brief hug, the kind of mutual respect that grows over their midfield battles.
"You sure you're not secretly studying my game?" Yaya teased, eyes glinting.
Kai froze for a heartbeat, caught off guard, before Yaya waved it off with a laugh. "I'm only joking."
Kai's own laugh came a beat late, an awkward chuckle as if he'd actually been caught stealing a trade secret.
Sergio Agüero and David Silva joined them soon after, offering nods and a few warm words. Arsenal and City may have been fierce competitors, but familiarity had bred a quiet rivalry.
Though still just twenty, Kai's reputation was climbing fast. He wasn't a superstar yet, but the respect in City's greetings said enough—he was no longer a promising youngster, but a genuine force.
…
The air in the away dressing room was mixed with the scent of liniment and mild frustration. A few players dissected missed chances and tight tackles, voices low but animated.
Kai slipped past the chatter, heading straight for a shower. The draw wasn't a bad result—City were title contenders, after all—but Arsenal's standards were higher this season.
Clean and changed, he finally allowed himself a breath of relief. Half the season gone, and Arsenal was near the top of the table. Compared to last year's frantic scramble for points, this campaign felt measured, controlled. A draw at the Etihad was hardly a disaster.
…
Back in London later that evening, Arsène Wenger asked the squad to head home but kept Thomas Vermaelen behind. The manager's office was quiet enough to hear the hum of the hallway lights.
Vermaelen sat opposite Wenger, his posture calm, almost resigned.
"You know why I wanted to speak with you," Wenger began after a long silence.
"I do," Vermaelen replied softly. "I've been expecting this since last season."
Wenger's eyes held a trace of regret. "I'm sorry."
"There's no need," Vermaelen said, shaking his head. "My body isn't keeping up. You gave me time to prove myself, to watch the partnership between Mertesacker and Koscielny grow. They've earned their place. It's time."
"You could stay if you stepped back from international duty," Wenger offered, though his tone lacked conviction.
Vermaelen gave a rueful smile. "You know I can't do that."
Wenger nodded, the decision sealed. "Then we'll make it official at season's end. Keep it quiet until then."
"Understood," Vermaelen said, standing. "I'll be ready."
When the defender left, Wenger exhaled a long, weary sigh. Professional football rarely allowed sentiment. Vermaelen had been a loyal servant, but Arsenal needed to evolve. And with Kai emerging as a midfield cornerstone, Wenger was quietly clearing the path for the younger man's rise.
…
Over the next few days, Kai noticed subtle changes. Vermaelen was absent from the starting eleven for three straight matches—unheard of before. The Belgian grew quieter, often stepping outside to take calls, occasionally requesting time away from training.
One afternoon, Kai passed a secluded corner of the training ground just as Vermaelen murmured into his phone.
"I understand," Vermaelen said, voice low. "I'll need you to find me a new club. The professor has made his decision. I have to move on. Yes… I'll be ready."
Vermaelen put down the phone and let out a long breath.
When he looked back over his career, it was a mix of bright moments and lingering regrets.
He had never been the headline star of any club. Even when he wore the captain's armband, he wasn't treated like a marquee name.
He'd worked tirelessly for years, but time had its say; the body inevitably slows.
These days, though, Vermaelen didn't dwell on the disappointments.
In truth, his football journey had been remarkable. Compared with the countless semi-pros grinding it out in the lower leagues, he'd earned a living at the top level. He'd even captained two storied sides—Ajax and Arsenal. That, he thought, counted for something.
Not every dream had been realised, but it was still a fine career.
He turned—and froze.
"Kai?"
Kai was leaning against the wall in the corridor, arms folded, watching him quietly.
"Captain," Kai said, his voice steady. "We need to talk."
Vermaelen managed a small grin. "Let's get through training first. We'll chat tonight."
Kai nodded once. Whatever was on his mind, he kept it tucked away during the session, his focus unshaken. Even Vermaelen couldn't help but admire the youngster's composure.
After training, Kai packed up quickly. He caught Chamberlain on the way out.
"You're on your own for the ride today."
Chamberlain blinked. "How am I supposed to get back?"
"Bus, then the Tube," Kai said, mock-annoyed. "I've moved, remember? My car isn't a team shuttle."
Chamberlain scratched his head. "Guess I'm too used to it. What's up with you?"
"Personal stuff," Kai replied. "Go on ahead."
Chamberlain shrugged and turned to Arteta. "Oi, Mikel, fancy giving me a lift? Mrs. Winter's doing Italian tonight."
Kai shook his head, half-smiling, and headed for the car park.
Half an hour later, Kai sat in a quiet corner of a small café. Vermaelen arrived soon after.
"What are you drinking?" Kai asked.
"Americano's fine." Vermaelen settled into the seat opposite. "So, how much did you hear?"
"I caught your phone call," Kai admitted.
A wry smile crossed Vermaelen's face. "Keep it between us. The professor doesn't want it public yet."
"So it's Wenger asking you to move on?" Kai's tone was careful.
"Yes," Vermaelen said simply. "Time to make space—for you."
Kai opened his mouth, but Vermaelen lifted a hand. "I know what you're about to say, and it won't change things. I've been planning for this since last season. It's just arrived a little sooner than I expected."
Kai pressed his lips together. "Have you decided on a club yet?"
"Not yet," Vermaelen said, then chuckled. "But at least I'll be free of you."
Kai gave him a look. "That makes you happy?"
"Do you know how awkward it is to be the captain and still get barked at by you?" Vermaelen teased.
"Then I'll stop shouting," Kai countered. "Stay."
Vermaelen shook his head. "Decisions made. Professional football's ruthless—you need to create value for the club. If you don't, you end up like me."
He shifted in his chair, more relaxed now. "Leaving might be the right call anyway. Playing alongside you is exhausting. You're nineteen—"
"Twenty soon," Kai interjected.
"Fine, twenty. But you're improving every week. The rest of us train like mad just to keep up. Fall behind and you're done. It's like a marathon—you set a blistering pace, and if we can't stay with you, we never see the finish line."
He exhaled. "After my last injury, I knew I couldn't quite keep up. Football's a team game. To win, all eleven have to move as one, and I can't match the level this group is reaching."
Vermaelen paused, then added quietly, "If it were just about chasing the league, maybe I'd hang on. But the professor's ambitions have grown since you arrived. Arsenal missed out on the Champions League last time; now he wants to storm back. And with you lot, he's building something new. There isn't a place for me in that plan."
Kai stayed silent, the weight of the moment settling between them as the café's hum filled the pause.