"Oh, that was close!"
Ma Fanshu jumped to her feet, unable to hold it in.
Watching from the press box had always felt controlled, almost restrained. Everything was measured, from camera angles to commentary tone. But here, surrounded by the roar of the crowd, the experience was completely different.
The sound hit in waves. It pulled her in before she even realized it.
She tried to stay focused, but some of the chants from the stands were rough and... vulgar, even by football standards.
Still, she could not look away.
Her cheeks were slightly flushed, her eyes locked onto Kai.
At first, she had admired him for what he represented. Discipline, composure, consistency. Now it was something more instinctive. In the middle of all that noise and pressure, even his plain features carried a certain presence.
There was pride in his tone, but it felt earned.
. .
On the pitch, Dortmund broke forward.
Marco Reus slipped the ball to Pierre-Emerick Aubameyang, who returned it quickly before Kai could close him down. The ball moved again, Henrikh Mkhitaryan feeding it back into Reus's path.
Reus barely had time to settle it.
Kai was already there.
"Brilliant positioning," Gary Neville said. "He's read that early."
Kai held his distance, close enough to challenge, far enough to recover. Balanced, patient.
Reus slowed the play, nudging the ball forward inch by inch.
Kai lowered his center of gravity, eyes flicking between the ball and Reus's upper body. Shoulders, hips, even the slightest shift.
Reus knew exactly what that meant.
He pushed the ball to the right, shaping to burst down the flank.
Kai leaned with him.
In the same instant, Reus cut it back sharply and drove the other way.
"Careful, Reus…" Tyler muttered.
Kai reacted immediately, straightening and shifting across.
Reus did not hesitate this time. He released the ball early, sending it out wide.
Kai got a touch, but not enough to redirect it.
He glanced at Reus as play moved on. Sharp, decisive. That kind of body feint required control and timing.
Reus looked back as well, expression tightening.
A fraction longer on the ball, and it would have been gone.
Both understood that much.
Dortmund switched play, looking to attack the opposite flank.
But they ran into another problem.
N'Golo Kanté.
He stayed tight, almost glued on.
His tackling was not as forceful as Kai's, but his presence was relentless. Once he locked on, there was no break.
More importantly, he worked with the line behind him.
As soon as a teammate slowed the opponent, he stepped in. Interception, tackle, recovery. Quick, efficient.
Arsenal's midfield and back line moved as one unit.
Kai, by contrast, operated more independently. He read danger earlier and stepped in before it fully developed.
Different styles, same result.
Neither side was giving Dortmund any space.
On the touchline, Jürgen Klopp watched in silence.
"It's started," he said under his breath.
They had expected this. They had planned for it. Still, nothing quite matched the reality on the pitch.
. .
Once Dortmund crossed into Arsenal's half, the pressure intensified immediately.
And then it happened.
Kai surged forward out of nowhere.
Aubameyang did not see him coming.
In a single motion, Kai hooked the ball cleanly away from behind him.
"Outstanding tackle!" Neville reacted.
Aubameyang stumbled, caught off guard. By the time he turned, Kai was already moving.
One touch to set himself.
Then a long pass, precise and direct, into Santi Cazorla in the half-space.
Cazorla controlled it smoothly and drove toward the box.
Klopp's jaw tightened.
This was the danger.
Win the ball, and Arsenal were instantly attacking.
Cazorla slowed slightly at the edge of the area, then lifted a delicate chip toward goal.
Roman Weidenfeller reacted quickly, backpedaling before leaping to tip it over the bar.
"Top save," Tyler said. "That's kept Dortmund in it."
Even without a goal, the warning was clear.
Two chances in quick succession. Dortmund felt it.
Klopp clenched his fists.
There was no obvious weakness to exploit. Every gap seemed covered, every risk reinforced.
He glanced across at Arsène Wenger.
The structure, the balance, the cohesion. It was all there.
Arsenal moved like a complete system.
Klopp looked back at his own side. A flicker of frustration crossed his face.
Two years ago, it might have been different.
Now, with key players gone, the edge had dulled.
He had tried to hold it together. It had not been enough.
For a moment, he understood something he had resisted before.
At big clubs, stability came easier.
He exhaled slowly and refocused on the pitch.
The game continued at a high tempo.
Arsenal dictated the rhythm, circulating the ball with control. Dortmund pressed hard, pushing forward in waves.
Kai stayed composed.
He knew this intensity would not last.
They could wait. Dortmund could not.
Gradually, the signs appeared.
A late cover here. A missed step there.
After ten minutes, the cracks began to show.
"Dortmund are starting to fade," Neville observed. "They've put a lot into this press."
Tyler nodded. "Arsenal have handled it well. They've drawn them out, made them work."
Dortmund kept chasing, always a step short.
That was the problem.
Close enough to believe, never close enough to succeed.
And that gap only made them push harder.
Arsenal used it.
They slowed the game when needed, stretched the pitch, and forced Dortmund to keep running.
Now, the momentum was shifting.
Kai scanned the field, already thinking ahead.
If the next attack came, it had to be decisive.
. . .
. .
.
"Arsenal are on the move here."
The warning came almost instantly, and you could feel it ripple through the Dortmund players.
They had just started to drop back when Kai lifted his head and struck a long diagonal into space.
"Lovely switch," Martin Tyler said. "That's picked out the weakness."
On the right, Marcel Schmelzer was still recovering his position, and the gap was clear.
Ángel Di María burst into it, arriving ahead of everyone. He took the ball in stride and, without hesitation, clipped it toward the center.
Luis Suárez attacked it, along with two others, but there was no balance, no clean contact.
Matthias Ginter reacted first and cleared it away.
The ball dropped just outside the box.
Marco Reus and Henrikh Mkhitaryan both sprinted toward it.
"I've got it!" Mkhitaryan shouted.
Reus pulled out of the challenge at the last second to avoid contact.
Then something changed.
A red and white shirt flashed past him.
"Watch it!" Reus yelled.
Kai had already launched himself into the air. He rose above Mkhitaryan, nudging him aside just enough to win the duel cleanly.
"Strong from the captain," Gary Neville noted.
Instead of forcing it, Kai cushioned the ball down, guiding it toward Santi Cazorla.
Cazorla immediately lifted it back into the penalty area.
Chaos again.
Bodies everywhere. Defenders scrambling, attackers trying to find a yard.
Kai stayed just outside the box, holding his position.
His eyes tracked every touch, every deflection.
"Too slow…" he muttered under his breath.
The hesitation inside the area was costing them.
Dortmund's defenders had recovered shape. The shooting angle was gone.
Eventually, Suárez managed to squeeze off a shot.
Blocked.
"Ah, he's got to hit that earlier," Tyler said. "Too many touches in a crowded area."
The ball spun out of the box.
It was dropping toward Kai.
"Reset, reset…" Neville began, expecting Arsenal to recycle possession.
He stopped mid-sentence.
Kai had already set himself.
His eyes never left the ball.
Right foot drawn back, timing the bounce.
The moment it hit the ground, he struck through it cleanly.
The shot stayed low, skimming across the grass with pace.
Ginter saw it late. He tried to close his legs.
Too late.
The ball slipped through him.
A sharp sound off the inside of the post.
Then the net rippled.
"Goal! Kai!" Tyler's voice rose. "What a strike!"
The Emirates erupted.
A wall of noise crashed down from every stand.
In the East Stand, Ma Fanshu froze for a split second before the explosion behind her swallowed everything.
"Goal!"
"Kai!"
"What a hit!"
Fans leapt to their feet, arms raised, voices breaking with excitement.
Then, almost suddenly, the noise dipped.
Kai was running toward them.
He slowed near the front of the stand, then drove three sharp punches into the air.
"Arsenal!"
"Arsenal!"
"Arsenal!"
Ma Fanshu shouted along with the rest, her voice lost in the surge.
For a moment, all she could see was him.
The focal point of everything.
Neville laughed softly. "That's outstanding. Absolute conviction."
Tyler followed, "It's a brilliant finish. When the chance comes to him, there's no hesitation at all."
. .
On the Dortmund bench, Jürgen Klopp stood still, rubbing his beard in frustration.
One loose moment, one second of space, and Kai punished it.
Across the pitch, Arsène Wenger allowed himself a smile.
The strike had authority.
Exactly what the moment required.
Back on the field, Ginter threw his arms out in frustration.
"Someone has to close him down!" he snapped.
No one answered.
What was there to say?
Stopping a strike like that was another matter entirely.
Reus crouched briefly, hands on his knees.
The weight of it sat with him.
First match wearing the armband, and they were already behind.
He pushed himself back up and turned to his teammates.
"Listen," he called out. "It's only a goal. Stay together, we go again."
His voice carried, but the reaction was muted.
Frustration lingered.
. . .
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