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Chapter 27: Big Boots To Fill
🕑 Added 2025-05-14 15:18:06 +0000 UTCArsenal’s No. 4 jersey—it’s nothing short of legendary, and the current number of Per Mertesacker.
And yet, it’s a number that’s often spoken of as cursed.
Its two past owners were club captains: Patrick Vieira and Cesc Fàbregas. Both left the club under clouds of disappointment. Vieira was shown the door, and Fàbregas, well... many fans saw his departure as a betrayal.
This has left Gunners supporters with mixed feelings about the number—equal parts pride and dread.
To Arsène Wenger, this number has carried weight for as long as he can remember.
Perhaps it started when he parted ways with Vieira, signaling the end of Arsenal’s iron-willed spirit.
Or maybe it began when he fully backed Fàbregas, allowing technical finesse to take precedence over grit and leadership.
Whatever the origin, one thing is certain: the No. 4 shirt means something to Wenger. It's a symbol of both his regrets and his hopes.
He knows all too well how dangerous it can be to give that number to a young player. The expectations, the pressure—it could break someone not built to carry it.
And yet, he believes Kai is different.
He doesn’t remember exactly when that belief took root.
Maybe it was during those endless training sessions, watching the boy pour sweat like rain.
Maybe it was during that storm of a training match, when Kai’s voice thundered across the pitch.
Or maybe it was during that chaotic incident, as absurd as it was controversial.
But the thought wouldn’t leave him.
Taking everything into account, Wenger made the decision.
He took Arsenal’s iconic No. 4 shirt from Mertesacker, who even encouraged Wenger's decision and gave it to Kai.
Off the pitch, he’d shield Kai from the pressure. But on the pitch, he’d apply it.
There was no time to wait. Wenger couldn't wait for the talent to bloom at its own pace. He had to expose this seedling to the elements.
If Kai was worthy of the number, he could carry its weight—and thrive under it.
Four or five years of development? That was too long.
Wenger wanted to fast-track Kai's development. He wanted a person who can set the foundation for Arsenal to build on top.
Once, Wenger had let Vieira go, discarding the spirit of steel that once defined the club.
Now, he hoped Kai could help him reclaim it.
...
[Head Coach Office, Arsenal Training Centre]
Thierry Henry stared at the jersey in Kai’s hands.
Memories flooded back—of battles fought, of teammates now gone, of one man in particular: Patrick Vieira.
That towering presence in midfield.
After a long silence, Henry’s gaze sharpened. “Don’t turn that shirt into a joke,” he said, his voice calm but firm.
Kai felt the weight of the jersey in his hands.
He took a breath, glanced at Henry, and grinned. “I will never let it come to that.”
With that, he turned and walked away.
Wenger chuckled softly.
Henry followed with a laugh of his own, turning to the manager. “So... he’s your pick?”
Wenger nodded. “He is.”
“Is this another nod to technique... or a return to iron?” Henry asked.
Wenger smiled. “Why not both?”
Henry blinked, then burst out laughing. “Greedy as ever, Professor.”
...
On the training ground, Pat Rice stood near the touchline, glancing toward the dressing room again and again, clearly waiting for something.
He’d already known about Wenger handing Kai the No. 4 shirt.
And he backed the decision, strongly.
Wenger and Pat had rarely agreed on things in two decades—but this was one of those rare moments of unity.
Wenger, a firm believer in technique and flair, believed in winning through style and precision.
Pat, on the other hand, believed in physicality and grit. To him, titles came from character, grit, and fighting spirit forged through years of relentless battle.
But that spirit required one key ingredient: resilience.
When Vieira left and Fàbregas was made captain, Pat had objected strongly, especially in Fàbregas’s case.
To Pat, Cesc lacked the steel to lead. He was gifted, no doubt. But he wasn’t a leader.
Because wearing the armband doesn’t make you a captain.
A true captain leads from within.
Leaders—real ones—are rare.
Chelsea had Terry. Liverpool had Gerrard. Barcelona had Puyol.
Those were leaders first, captains second.
As for Kai? Pat wasn’t sure. But he sensed something unique in the lad.
A presence. A potential.
He looked up again—and there it was. The dressing room door opened.
Kai jogged out in his Arsenal training kit, lean and powerful.
But what drew the eye most was the bold number [4] on his shorts.
He came to a halt in front of Pat.
“Well?” Pat asked, eyeing him up and down.
“Never felt better,” Kai replied, with a bright grin.
“Good. Now go.”
Kai turned to grab a yellow bib.
But Pat barked, “Leave it! No bibs over that shirt. Get in with the first team!”
Kai nodded, dropped the vest, and headed toward the main squad.
The training session paused as eyes turned to him.
Something about him felt... different.
They couldn’t place it, but it made their hearts beat faster.
Alexander Song stepped off the pitch to make room.
He was used to being rotated, so he didn’t think much of it.
But as he passed Kai, he caught sight of the number.
He froze.
No. 4?
How could that be?
That was Per's number.
One by one, the others noticed too.
Van Persie looked on, his expression unreadable.
He’d played with Vieira. With Henry. He should’ve thought of Cesc.
Chamberlain frowned. “Why are you wearing No. 4?”
Kai shot back, “Maybe it’s because I shouted at you.”
“Huh? What kind of nonsense is that?” Chamberlain muttered, glancing at his own No. 15 with a grimace.
Suddenly, it didn’t feel that great anymore.
Kai jogged over to Mertesacker
"I hope you don't mind," asked Kai.
" Nonsense, a guy like you deserves a good number. Plus my new number.2 isn't that bad", Mertesacker replied jovially while patting Kai's back.
Kai in the No. 4 had caused quite a stir, but since the former owner didn't protest, no one said anything.
...
[Meeting Room, Arsenal Training Centre]
“This is my press card. Here’s my UK documentation. This is my Chinese ID. You can verify my identity on our website.” Zheng Xin rattled off, laying his credentials on the table.
Martin Hughes sighed. “We’ve verified your identity. If you weren’t a real journalist, you’d be at the police station right now.”
“I want to interview Kai.”
“Sorry, not happening. It’s in-season. No interviews.”
“Come on. I won’t write anything negative. Look at me—pale skin, black eyes—I’m Chinese too. I just want to understand him a bit.”
“No means no.”
He’d been to Arsenal multiple times now.
And he still couldn’t believe how hard it was to talk to one young player.
He wasn’t going to leak anything. Wasn’t going to publish anything sensitive.
But after enough pestering, Martin Hughes eventually brought him into a conference room for a chat.
Thirty minutes later, security politely escorted Zheng Xin off the premises.
“Damn it,” he muttered, standing outside Arsenal’s training ground in frustration.
A week. And nothing to show for it.
Arsenal was being very protective of the newcomer.
Well, protective was the generous way to put it.
Some clubs didn’t want young players getting overexposed to media attention. It could mess with their heads.
But this? This was a total blackout.
Zheng Xin wasn’t even trying to dig dirt.
He’d just gotten curious. At first, it was just part of the job. But now, he was hooked.
Why was Arsenal so tightly guarding Kai?
Was he really that good?
Still, as he glanced back at the Colney Training Facility, he knew one thing.
If the club wouldn’t give him answers… maybe the next match would.
Maybe there, he’d finally see what made Kai so special.
