Chapter 220: Champions League Semifinals, Second Leg

On April 29th, the entire Arsenal squad assembled, ready to depart for Spain.

With the World Cup approaching, football fever had swept across Europe — billboards, TV screens, and even airports were plastered with World Cup and Champions League promotions.

Nowhere was that atmosphere stronger than in Madrid.

The moment Arsenal landed, they were greeted not with hospitality but hostility.

As the team bus rolled out of the airport, Real Madrid fans lined the roads, waving scarves and jerseys, chanting loudly, and flashing the famous white crest toward the windows.

Kai turned to glance at them briefly, then looked away, unfazed.

They had the lead, yes — but with Suarez out injured, the pressure was still enormous.

Facing Real Madrid without their most dangerous forward meant one thing: the midfield and defense would carry the burden.

After checking in at their hotel, Wenger clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention.

“Right, drop your bags off and meet back at the bus. We’ll head straight to the training ground.”

A short while later, everyone was back downstairs, boarding the bus again.

Their temporary base was Getafe’s training ground — a solid facility, though not the first choice. Atletico Madrid had offered it in the past, but since they too had reached the semi-finals this year, it was off-limits.

Their semi-final with Chelsea would take place the following day, on May 1st.

Training was strictly behind closed doors. No media, no spectators, no leaks.

Plenty of journalists had requested access — some even pleaded for interviews — but Wenger turned them all down without hesitation.

The sessions themselves didn’t differ much from normal. The intensity was there, but the mood among the players was… lighter.

They all knew what Wenger’s attitude signaled — this Champions League run was, realistically, nearing its end.

Without Suarez, Arsenal’s offensive bite had dulled. Continuing any further was going to be an uphill battle.

...

The next day, the Arsenal team bus, escorted by police cars, made its way toward the legendary Santiago Bernabéu.

This was the Champions League semi-final — the eyes of the world were watching.

Helicopters hovered above, capturing live footage for global broadcasts. Even the production setup felt grander than usual; UEFA had upgraded almost everything for the last four teams standing.

As the bus drew closer to the stadium, the noise swelled.

A wave of chants, songs, and roars washed over them.

Real Madrid’s supporters were in full voice, singing their club anthem with spine-tingling passion. Every note carried a hint of intimidation, every chorus a warning.

Among the sea of white, pockets of red could still be seen — the traveling Arsenal fans, brave and proud — but their numbers were dwarfed.

After a quick change in the locker room, the players jogged out to warm up.

The moment they stepped onto the pitch, the boos began.

Shrill. Relentless.

Every Arsenal player could feel the hostility pressing down like a weight.

...

Back in the dressing room, Wenger gathered his men once more.

“It’s the same message,” he said, voice steady. “Go out there and enjoy it. No pressure, no rigid standards. Whatever happens, make sure you walk off that pitch without regrets.”

Vermaelen, wearing the captain’s armband, nodded firmly. He was starting tonight — Kai would not be captain on the pitch.

The team filed into the tunnel.

Moments later, the Real Madrid players arrived, looking composed — maybe too composed. Whether it was confidence or acting, Kai couldn’t tell.

Their squad depth was frightening, and even though Pepe’s reckless challenge had taken Suarez out, Real hadn’t really suffered. Arsenal, on the other hand, had been crippled by that loss.

Kai scanned the Madrid lineup. Strangely, a few of them seemed to avoid his eyes. Whenever he looked at one of them directly, they quickly turned away.

Weird, he thought, frowning slightly, but he didn’t dwell on it.

The referee began walking toward the pitch. It was time.

...

“Both teams are stepping out onto the pitch! This is it — the second leg of the 2013–14 UEFA Champions League semi-final! Real Madrid hosting Arsenal here at the Bernabéu!”

Martin Taylor’s voice carried the electricity of the occasion.

“In the first leg, Arsenal edged a 2–1 win at the Emirates. Now they face a monumental challenge away from home. Can they hold off Madrid’s comeback? Can they keep the dream alive?”

Alan Smith chimed in, his tone thoughtful. “And it’s worth keeping an eye on Kai. He was instrumental in that first leg — his defensive discipline and vision really stood out. The question is, can he repeat that performance here at the Bernabéu, and maybe once again frustrate that famous BBC trio?”

Martin laughed softly. “Well, with Suarez out, Arsenal will need every ounce of structure and spirit they can muster. Holding on tonight might just be the victory they need.”

As the anthem began to echo through the stadium, the players took their positions.

Lineups

Real Madrid (4-3-3):
Goalkeeper: Casillas

Defenders: Carvajal, Ramos, Varane, Coentrão

Midfielders: Khedira, Modrić, Di María

Forwards: Bale, Benzema, Cristiano Ronaldo

Arsenal (4-2-3-1):
Goalkeeper: Szczęsny

Defenders: Sagna, Mertesacker, Koscielny, Vermaelen

Def. Midfielders: Kai, Ramsey

Att. Midfielders: Walcott, Cazorla, Rosický

Forward: Podolski

Kai stood in his own half, surrounded by a wall of jeers. He didn’t need to look around to know what they meant—he was deep in enemy territory.

Other than a faint chant from the small pocket of Arsenal fans high in the corner, the Santiago Bernabéu was roaring for Real Madrid.

Three years at the top level, and here he was.

From a scrawny centre-back fighting for minutes to one of Arsenal’s most trusted players. And tonight, he had a role that could define the entire match.

He couldn’t quite describe the feeling running through himself.

Excitement, nerves... but more than that, an unshakable hunger.

Real Madrid. The biggest stage imaginable. And he was right in the middle of it.

He took a deep breath, eyes fixed on the white shirts across from him. This—this was why he’d worked so hard.

Beep!

The referee’s whistle pierced through the noise, and Real Madrid kicked off.

Podolski and the front line surged forward immediately.

Madrid began their trademark keep-ball routine, Modrić dropping deep to dictate the tempo.

Seeing the Croatian get comfortable, Kai barked out sharply,

“Press! Don’t give them time to breathe!”

The Arsenal players reacted at once, pushing high and closing the passing lanes.

It worked. Real Madrid’s rhythm started to wobble.

Even with Modrić pulling the strings, Madrid’s defenders looked hesitant—nobody wanted to risk losing the ball that close to goal.

Martin Taylor: “Arsenal are pressing high, and that’s a clever move. Modrić is the heartbeat of this Madrid side. Once he settles into a rhythm, they become twice as dangerous.”

Alan Smith: “Spot on, Martin. Arsenal are trying to break that rhythm early, and it’s making Madrid’s backline a little uneasy.”

Modrić found Bale on the flank.

With a deft touch, Bale nudged the ball into space, ready to accelerate.

Ramsey stayed tight on him, matching his run. The Welshman couldn’t fully open up, but he managed to reach the byline and whip in a cross.

Cristiano Ronaldo, Kai, and Mertesacker all leapt at once.

Ronaldo’s jump was higher—but Kai had already timed his leap perfectly, meeting the ball first and heading it clear to safety.

“Tsk!”

Ronaldo landed with a frustrated hiss.

He hated it. Kai always seemed to read the ball just that fraction of a second earlier, always reaching the peak of the arc before anyone else.

He could see where the ball was going—but Kai? Kai knew exactly when to rise for it.