Two straight wins had given Arsenal a much-needed boost in morale.
The most noticeable effect? Arsenal were climbing the table again, finally building some momentum.
From a lowly 11th place, they had surged up to 5th.
They were now three points ahead of their bitter rivals, Tottenham Hotspur:
5th: Arsenal – 6 wins, 2 draws, 3 losses – 20 points
7th: Tottenham – 5 wins, 2 draws, 4 losses – 17 points
But that cushion wasn't likely to last.
Because next up? The North London Derby.
Emirates Stadium, London
Arsenal vs. Tottenham—one of the fiercest rivalries in English football.
The two clubs had been rivals for generations, not just because of geography—both based in North London—but also due to history, pride, and plenty of bad blood. From club politics to contentious transfers, every meeting between these two sides carried heavy emotion.
For Arsenal fans, this wasn't just a match. It was a chance to crush their enemies.
And for any true Gunner, beating Spurs wasn't optional—it was mandatory.
Tottenham, for their part, weren't having the best season. Since the departure of Luka Modric, their hopes now rested heavily on Gareth Bale's shoulders.
Players like Harry Kane, Eriksen, and Son hadn't yet arrived. Right now, Spurs were still a work in progress.
Many Arsenal fans believed this was their chance to dominate—to humiliate their rivals.
With that energy pulsing through the Emirates, the North London Derby kicked off.
Arsenal Starting XI (4-2-3-1):
Defenders: Sagna, Koscielny, Mertesacker, Vermaelen (C)
Holding Midfielders: Wilshere, Arteta
Attacking Midfielders: Cazorla, Walcott, Podolski
Tottenham Starting XI (4-4-2):
Defenders: Naughton, Vertonghen, Gallas (C), Kyle Walker
Midfielders: Bale, Huddlestone, Sandro, Lennon
Forwards: Adebayor, Defoe
Kai wasn't in the starting lineup. Wenger decided to rest him and give Wilshere more time to build his rhythm.
Wilshere, fired up, saw this as his moment. He considered himself one of the club's grown players, and he wanted to make a statement.
"If you haven't put in a performance against Tottenham, you haven't truly become a Gunner," he had once said.
Early in the match, as Gareth Bale sprinted down the flank with the ball, Wilshere charged in.
A thunderous tackle. He wanted to send a message.
The two players collided and tumbled to the ground.
Bale rolled over, grimacing—but before he could even react, a scream echoed through the stadium.
He hadn't even opened his mouth yet.
He looked over and saw Wilshere writhing on the turf, clutching his lower back, his face twisted in pain.
The Welshman was momentarily stunned. Wasn't he the one who got tackled?
Why was Wilshere screaming louder?
The entire Emirates fell into a stunned silence.
Fans who were about to roar in approval now sat in stunned confusion.
What just happened? Did Wilshere injure himself?
Referee Howard Webb rushed over, followed by a few Arsenal players. There was a moment of uncertainty—was it a foul? A card?
But as they saw Wilshere's condition, they signaled frantically to the bench.
Two staff members hurried over with a stretcher.
Bale, now back on his feet, looked frustrated. He'd been fouled, but it seemed like Wilshere had come out worse.
On the bench, Kai was speechless.
Wait—he injured himself? What the hell was that?
As Wilshere was carried off on the stretcher, Kai felt a wave of frustration wash over him.
They were counting on Wilshere to help them push up the table.
He'd just returned two games ago.
And now? He was out again.
It wasn't just Kai who felt the blow—every Arsenal player looked deflated.
They just couldn't catch a break.
Wenger's face was stormy, dark with frustration.
Less than five minutes into the match, and he already had to make a substitution.
"Sacré bleu," he muttered under his breath, then turned and shouted, "Kai! Warm up!"
Pat came over to Kai, crouched down, checked the white gauze around his head, and gave a quick nod.
Kai tore off his training vest and jogged over to the touchline to warm up.
Even from the sidelines, he could feel the mixed emotions of the Arsenal supporters—confusion, helplessness, and even a trace of humor.
Kai just shook his head and focused on his warm-up. He knew he'd be on soon.
Wenger stepped toward the fourth official and signaled for the substitution.
Then he gave Kai a firm pat on the shoulder.
"This is a derby. We don't lose derbies. You know what to do."
The substitution board went up.
In the commentary booth, Ian Darke exclaimed:
"Oh! Smart decision from Wenger. Here comes Kai! After his performance against Manchester United, it's clear he's earned the manager's trust. And look—no white gauze. That means the injury's nearly healed. Let's see if he can pick up right where he left off."
Kai took his position on the sideline, loosening up as he watched Wilshere being carried past.
Wilshere had his hands covering his face—whether from pain or embarrassment, no one could tell.
Kai glanced down and saw the gap between Wilshere's fingers.
The guy was peeking through them, looking toward the stands.
Wilshere immediately shut his fingers and turned away.
Kai raised an eyebrow.
As soon as he was on the pitch, Kai jogged over to Arteta. They covered their mouths and had a quick exchange.
They switched places.
Kai moved over to cover Gareth Bale's side of the field.
Wenger wasn't taking any chances. Bale was Tottenham's greatest threat, and he was deploying his toughest shield.
As the referee blew the whistle to restart play, Kai focused his gaze on Bale.
Bale had grown a lot since Modric's departure. Tottenham were relying on him now more than ever, and he was starting to look like their main man.
But Bale still wasn't at his peak. He was dangerous, but flawed. His technical polish hadn't fully caught up to his raw speed.
Former Tottenham Coach Redknapp had tried to mold him into a Giggs-type winger—explosive, versatile, and hard to contain—but Bale wasn't quite there yet.
His speed was deadly. But technically, there were gaps.
Kai knew that once Bale hit top speed, there was no catching him.
So the only way to stop him was to stop him before he got going.
At the same time, Bale was watching Arsenal's No. 4 just as intently.
Tottenham manager André Villas-Boas had warned him.
"If you go up against their No. 4, don't get into a brawl. Stay out of his reach."
Plenty of technically gifted players had struggled against Kai.
Boas didn't think Bale could beat him with technique—not yet.
But Bale wasn't listening.
He felt like he'd grown. Tottenham had put their faith in him, and he was thriving.
Bale's eyes lit up with determination.
He wasn't just any winger.
He wasn't afraid of anyone.
Tottenham restarted play.
They weren't in a dangerous position yet, so they opted to pass short and rebuild.
Bale drifted wide and called for the ball, ready to test the waters.
His teammates didn't hesitate.
The ball came to Bale, and immediately, he felt pressure.
"Kai's on him already!"
The Emirates crowd collectively held its breath.
Bale planted his foot and tried to turn, but Kai was too close.
His physical presence was overwhelming—tight, unyielding.
Bale couldn't turn. But he didn't want to back down either.
A quick pull-back with his left, a nudge with the right, and then a burst of speed.
He tried to spring forward.
But just as the ball left his boot, Kai stepped in.
He slid right between Bale and the ball, smooth as a baby's bottom.
Cut off the run. Won the ball. Passed it to Arteta.
"Fantastic timing!. The Welshman is dispossessed."
Was that Bale's plan?
To take him on physically?
Of all the things he could've done, that was the dumbest.
Kai couldn't help but smile.
You want to wrestle with me? Be my guest.