This spot, tucked away in the Fulham area, had quietly become a familiar spot for Arsenal players.
No one quite remembered when the tradition started, but Kai's first official First Team dinner had been held here. Since then, it had more or less become their go-to place.
The setting was comfortable, private, and ideal for gatherings, which was why Kai often chose it for barbecues.
At the entrance stood a wooden sign bearing the Arsenal crest—a recent addition. It was obvious the owners had realized who their regulars were and were more than happy to cater to them.
In the yard, a long table had been laid out with neatly arranged grilled dishes. Most of the skewers were chicken or fish, threaded with peppers, onions, and zucchini, with only a small section of lean beef. It was simple, clean food—filling without feeling heavy, the kind of food players could eat without worrying about the next day's training.
The Arsenal players sat around the table, eating, laughing, and talking freely.
"In my junior year, I once skipped an entire afternoon training in Spain for this mujer," Sanchez said casually, " Muy hermosa. But that decision almost ruined my chances of playing. Too fierce."
Sanchez launched into one of his tales.
He was always like this—endlessly energetic once he became familiar with everyone. Even after a full day of intense training, he still looked ready for another match. Apart from Chamberlain, he was easily the most restless person in the squad.
Although his English wasn't the best, his boisterous communication made up for it. Sanchez had settled into the Arsenal dressing room without missing a beat.
Kai sat at the far end of the table, dressed casually, slouched comfortably in his chair. He ate quietly, smiling as he watched his teammates carry on.
"Yeah, I'm calling nonsense," Chamberlain suddenly said, standing up. "That never happened."
Naturally, since his own stories were questionable at best, he assumed everyone else was exaggerating too.
Sanchez didn't argue. Instead, he calmly pulled out his phone and dialed a number.
The call connected.
"Mi querida Camila."
(My darling Camilla)
"¡¡Vete al diablo!!"
(Go to hell!!)
A sharp, furious scream burst from the phone.
Sanchez instinctively tilted the phone away from his ear. Around the table, everyone froze, staring at him in disbelief.
Chamberlain looked like his entire worldview had just collapsed.
Sanchez smirked. "See? Too fierce."
"I still don't believe it," Chamberlain said stubbornly. "Video call. Otherwise, it doesn't count."
From beside him, Jenkinson laughed. "Calm down. Chamberlain's still a pure soul—probably guarding his first night like a trophy."
Chamberlain's face went bright red. "That's rubbish! I have a girlfriend!"
Ohhhhh—
The table erupted in teasing laughter.
"So who was it?"
"Yeah, who was she?"
"Come on, tell us!"
Chamberlain crossed his arms. "None of your business."
Then he suddenly pointed at Kai. "Cap doesn't have a girl!"
Kai, who had been enjoying the show in peace, was abruptly dragged into the spotlight.
He muttered a quiet curse.
That idiot…
Keeping his composure, Kai shrugged. "I don't think that's a topic worth discussing."
The curiosity in everyone's eyes only intensified.
Kai cleared his throat. "How about we talk football? The Premier League, maybe?"
A collective shake of heads followed.
"Not interested."
They all stared at him expectantly.
Kai hesitated, then took out his phone. "Alright… how about some drinks? Nothing crazy. Just a few."
That worked instantly.
"Drinks?"
"Seriously?"
This was the first time Kai had ever suggested alcohol, and even though it was an obvious attempt to change the subject, it sent a ripple of excitement through the group.
After all, if anyone asked questions later, the captain would take responsibility. What was there to worry about?
Kai quickly ordered beer through a delivery service.
After hanging up, he raised three fingers. "Three conditions. It is low-content alcohol, we drink here, and it doesn't affect training tomorrow."
Everyone nodded.
Then he grinned. "Alright, lads. The party's officially on."
"Long live the captain!"
Laughter and cheers filled the yard.
Before long, a truck pulled up outside the manor and unloaded large crates of beer.
Spread across the entire First Team, it worked out to about two bottles each—well within reason.
On the warm summer night, Kai cracked open a bottle with a sharp hiss. Then, to everyone's surprise, he climbed onto a chair, planting one foot on the table, completely at ease.
Beer in hand, he scanned the group and spoke loudly.
"Last season… we lived through something special."
The chatter faded.
"We stopped Arsenal's decline. And we won the Premier League."
Veterans like Suarez lifted their heads, pride clear in their expressions. It was something they all shared.
New arrivals, including Di Maria, watched with quiet smiles.
With alcohol in their systems, the mood grew looser, warmer.
Kai continued, his voice steady.
"This season, we've brought in even more people to fight alongside us."
He turned toward Di Maria.
"Angel Di Maria!"
Kai raised his bottle. "Argentina's angel—now Arsenal's."
"Angel! Angel!"
The cheers were deafening.
Di Maria looked genuinely surprised, but he raised his arms anyway, accepting the moment.
The response was explosive.
"We've got Sanchez," Kai went on, "and trust me—this guy will score important goals for us."
"Sanchez!!!"
Sanchez's face flushed. He loved moments like this.
"Campbell and Navas," Kai said, "Costa Rica's sharpest spear and strongest shield."
"Campbell!"
"Navas!!!"
Campbell grinned broadly. Navas looked a bit shy but didn't pull away from the applause.
Kai made sure every newcomer was acknowledged, every name called.
Finally, he clenched his fist.
"So tell me," he roared, "what's our goal this season?"
"Champions League!"
Chamberlain shouted first.
"Champions League!!"
"Champions League!!!"
"Arsenal for the Champions League!"
The roar was thunderous. Hearts raced.
Even Di Maria and the other new signings were swept up in it, shouting along without hesitation.
Kai lifted his bottle.
"After this drink, a new Premier League season begins. For Arsenal—"
He paused, then bellowed—
"For the Champions League!"
Kai laughed and raised his bottle. "Alright—down it!"
The next second, bottles were lifted across the table.
Beer went down in loud gulps, completely uninhibited.
Even a few players who usually avoided drinking got caught up in the moment and followed along without thinking too much about it.
The scene was messy, but the mood only climbed higher.
The players who had still felt a bit distant from one another slowly loosened up. Conversations overlapped, jokes flew freely, and the gaps between newcomers and veterans quietly disappeared.
The party fully came alive.
Kai himself stopped at one bottle.
The gathering finally wound down around eleven in the evening.
Before people left, Kai went around personally, reminding everyone to head straight home and stay out of trouble.
He didn't expect miracles.
Still, it had to be said—as long as no one crossed the line, it was fine.
After all, this was the last chance to relax before the season truly began, and Kai had no intention of tightening the reins too much.
As for the drinking itself, he didn't see an issue with it happening once or twice during the season.
Even professionals don't live in complete isolation. There are moments when sharing a drink matters more than strict discipline.
Like tonight.
Without the alcohol, Di Maria and the other newcomers probably wouldn't have blended into the group nearly as quickly.
Sometimes, one night was enough to turn teammates into brothers.
. . .
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