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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
A difficult night that forced Arsenal to rediscover something important about themselves, which is resilience.
The days that followed Everton moved quickly again.
That was football's rhythm at the highest level.
No matter how emotional one result felt, another match always arrived before anyone could sit with it for too long.
And honestly, Arsenal needed that.
Momentum.
Routine.
The feeling of returning fully to themselves again after the emotional turbulence surrounding Watford.
London Colney slowly became louder during the next week.
Not chaotic.
Alive.
The sharp tension that had settled over training after the defeat began easing naturally with every passing session. Music returned to recovery rooms. More jokes floated between drills again. Players stopped replaying Watford in every conversation and started focusing forward instead.
Winning did that.
Not because it erased problems.
Because it restored trust.
The first match after Everton came in the fourth round of the Carabao Cup away against Norwich City F.C..
And for once, Francesco watched the entire thing from home instead of the pitch.
Wenger rested several key starters after the brutal run of fixtures, and Francesco honestly didn't argue much when the manager informed him after training.
"You need recovery," Wenger said calmly while reviewing notes near the tactical board.
"I'm fine."
"Yes," Wenger replied immediately. "Which is exactly why I would like to keep you that way."
Hard to argue with that logic.
So instead of traveling with the squad, Francesco spent the evening in Richmond sitting on the couch beside Leah while Cheddar attempted to understand why football on television apparently mattered more than throwing tennis balls.
The match itself turned difficult in exactly the annoying way cup ties often did.
Cold night.
Compact stadium.
Aggressive pressing from Norwich.
Young Arsenal players trying to prove themselves.
Leah sat curled beneath a blanket wearing one of Francesco's old Arsenal hoodies while the match played across the television.
"You look uncomfortable not playing," she observed midway through the first half.
"I'm observing."
"You're coaching the television."
"I'm helping."
"You shouted at a right-back thirty seconds ago."
"He was too narrow."
Leah laughed softly.
"Wenger's turning you into a tactical addict."
"Probably."
Eventually Arsenal found the breakthrough through Eddie Nketiah.
Sharp movement inside the box.
Quick finish.
Classic Nketiah goal.
Cheddar barked immediately after the net rippled like he personally contributed to the attack.
Francesco pointed toward the screen.
"See? Good pressing."
Cheddar wagged his tail proudly.
Leah shook her head.
"You two have become impossible."
Norwich equalized later through a scrappy second-half goal that immediately annoyed Francesco despite him not even being involved physically.
"That defending was terrible," he muttered.
"You are absolutely still emotionally playing this match."
"Correct."
But eventually Nketiah delivered again late in the game with another sharp finish to secure a 2–1 Arsenal victory.
The young striker celebrated wildly in front of the away supporters while teammates mobbed him near the corner flag.
Francesco smiled quietly watching the replay.
Academy goals always felt different somehow.
More personal for the club.
Leah nudged him lightly.
"You're proud."
"A little."
"A lot."
"…yes."
By the time the squad returned to London later that night, the mood around the club had improved even further.
Three consecutive wins now.
Confidence rebuilding properly.
Then came Swansea City A.F.C. at the Emirates.
And this time Francesco returned immediately to the starting lineup.
The atmosphere around the stadium before kickoff felt calmer than it had in weeks. Not because Arsenal supporters stopped caring after Watford.
Because the team had reminded everyone who they were.
The dressing room before the Swansea match carried relaxed focus now.
Music playing softly.
Players moving through routines comfortably again.
Alexis juggling a ball near his locker while simultaneously arguing with Walker about something completely irrelevant.
"I'm telling you," Walker insisted confidently, "left-footed players are naturally more dramatic."
"That is scientifically nonsense," Cazorla replied immediately.
"Emotionally scientific."
"Stop saying emotionally before random words."
Francesco laughed quietly while tying his boots.
Somehow Walker had fully committed to this emotional-theory nonsense now.
Before kickoff Wenger addressed the squad calmly.
"Professional performance today," he said. "No complacency."
Simple message.
Necessary message.
Swansea arrived organized and disciplined, defending deep early while Arsenal controlled possession patiently around them.
It took time.
But eventually the pressure told.
Francesco opened the scoring midway through the first half after a beautifully worked move between Özil and Alexis.
Mesut slipped the pass perfectly between defenders.
Alexis flicked it first time into space.
Francesco burst through and finished low into the far corner before the goalkeeper could react.
The Emirates erupted instantly.
Not explosive relief like Everton.
Something warmer.
Familiar.
Francesco turned toward the supporters with both arms slightly raised before Alexis crashed into him from behind screaming in celebration.
"There he is!"
"You assisted it."
"I assist greatness."
"That sentence was terrible."
"Still true."
Arsenal controlled the match afterward almost completely.
Robertson scored the second goal with a brilliant overlapping run that ended in him smashing the ball into the roof of the net from a tight angle.
The Scottish fullback looked genuinely shocked himself for a second before sprinting wildly toward the crowd.
Walker nearly tackled him celebrating.
"MY WEATHER THEORY CONTINUES!"
Robertson stared at him.
"What does weather have to do with this?"
"Everything."
"No."
"Yes."
Even the crowd laughed seeing the interaction replayed on the big screen afterward.
Then came the third.
Pure Santi Cazorla.
Late in the second half the Spaniard drifted through midfield traffic like gravity affected him differently from everyone else before curling a beautiful finish into the bottom corner from outside the box.
The Emirates applauded before the ball even hit the net.
Because everyone knew.
That was ridiculous.
Cazorla grinned while teammates surrounded him.
"I am still young," he announced proudly.
"You are approximately forty," Ramsey replied.
"Technically rude."
The 3–0 victory felt comfortable.
Controlled.
Professional.
Exactly the kind of performance Wenger loved most.
No chaos.
No emotional collapse.
No drama.
Just football.
And then came Europe again.
Champions League night away against NK Maribor.
Those matches always carried a different atmosphere entirely.
Floodlights.
Anthem.
Cold continental air.
Francesco loved all of it.
The trip to Slovenia felt lighter from the beginning. Arsenal traveled with confidence fully restored now, and it showed in every interaction around the squad.
On the plane Alexis sat across from Francesco watching clips again while Gnabry leaned over his shoulder.
"You watch football like it's homework," Gnabry muttered.
"It is homework."
"That's depressing."
"You should also study more."
"I score goals through instinct."
"You lose possession through instinct too."
"Unnecessary attack."
Francesco smirked quietly beside them while looking out the window toward the clouds below.
European away trips always made football feel slightly bigger somehow.
More cinematic.
More important.
Maribor's stadium greeted Arsenal with fierce local energy despite the difference in quality between the teams.
Supporters bounced constantly behind the goals beneath freezing night air while Champions League music echoed around the ground before kickoff.
Francesco stood in line beside Van Dijk during the anthem, staring out toward the floodlights while adrenaline settled naturally into his chest.
This feeling never got old.
Not ever.
The match itself quickly became one-sided.
Arsenal were simply too sharp.
Too confident.
Too fluid now.
Francesco opened the scoring early after Alexis stole possession high up the pitch and immediately fed him inside the box.
One touch.
Finish.
Goal.
Simple.
Efficient.
Exactly the kind of strike Wenger loved from his forwards.
Alexis scored twice afterward himself, both goals fueled by the kind of relentless aggression that made defenders miserable for entire evenings.
One came from pressing.
The other from pure instinct inside the area.
After the second, Alexis screamed toward the away supporters like Arsenal had just won the final itself.
Walker jogged over laughing.
"We're winning five-nil and you're still furious."
"Good," Alexis replied immediately.
"About what?"
"Everything."
Reasonable answer honestly.
Gnabry added another before halftime with a brilliant curling finish from the edge of the box.
The young winger celebrated directly in front of the bench this time pointing aggressively toward Wenger.
"I told you!"
Wenger blinked once.
"Yes. You tell everyone constantly."
Even the manager looked amused.
Mesut scored beautifully in the second half too after controlling a difficult pass with absurd elegance before guiding the finish calmly into the corner.
Typical Özil goal.
Minimal effort.
Maximum humiliation for defenders.
Then somehow Walker scored.
Nobody really understood how.
One minute he was overlapping down the right.
The next he was sprinting away celebrating wildly after smashing a shot through traffic.
He looked almost emotionally offended by how excited everyone became.
"SEE?" he shouted toward Robertson immediately afterward. "THE THEORY."
Robertson looked exhausted.
"What theory even is this anymore?"
"I haven't decided."
The match finished 6–0.
Complete domination.
And by the time Arsenal applauded the traveling supporters afterward, the confidence inside the squad had fully returned now.
Not just recovered.
Strengthened.
Because suddenly the Watford defeat no longer looked like the beginning of a collapse.
It looked like a lesson.
A moment that sharpened them again.
The flight home afterward carried that unmistakable energy winning teams always developed during strong runs.
Players talking louder.
More laughter between seats.
Recovery staff smiling more easily.
Even Wenger looked calmer.
Francesco sat near the back beside Cech during part of the flight while the goalkeeper quietly reviewed clips on a tablet.
"You notice something?" Cech asked eventually.
"What?"
"We're managing difficult moments better already."
Francesco considered it.
He was right.
Even in smaller moments during matches now, Arsenal looked calmer emotionally. More measured. Less frantic when momentum shifted briefly against them.
Watford had forced growth.
And now another challenge waited.
A bigger one.
Manchester City away at the Etihad Stadium.
That changed the atmosphere immediately the moment focus shifted toward the upcoming fixture.
Because City weren't Norwich.
Or Swansea.
Or Maribor.
They were direct rivals.
One of the few teams capable of matching Arsenal technically, physically, and emotionally over ninety minutes.
Training at London Colney before the match reflected that instantly.
Intensity returned.
Not nervous intensity.
Elite intensity.
The kind that appeared when top players understood exactly how important the next game could become.
Cold morning air hung over the training pitches while coaches arranged tactical drills beneath grey skies.
Francesco jogged through warmups beside Van Dijk while Wenger observed from the sideline wrapped in a long dark coat.
"You excited?" Virgil asked quietly.
"Yes."
"Big match feeling?"
"The best kind."
City always brought that feeling.
Not hatred.
Challenge.
Training matches became sharp immediately.
Kanté snapping into tackles.
Walker trying far too hard against the reserve wingers because apparently every sprint now carried emotional significance in his head.
Alexis pressing like the season depended on every drill.
At one point Cazorla slipped between three defenders during possession work before nutmegging Ramsey casually.
Ramsey stared at him.
"You're enjoying this too much."
"Yes," Cazorla replied honestly.
Wenger stopped training briefly during one tactical session and called the starting group together near midfield.
"City will try to force emotional transitions," he said calmly. "Especially at home."
Francesco listened closely while catching his breath.
There was that word again.
Emotion.
Always emotion now.
"We cannot allow the match to become chaotic," Wenger continued. "Control the moments. Control the rhythm."
The lessons from Watford had become part of Arsenal's identity now.
Not fearfully.
Intelligently.
After training finished, players slowly walked back toward the indoor facilities beneath light rain while staff collected equipment behind them.
Walker immediately wrapped an arm around Robertson again.
"You know what this weather means."
Robertson sighed.
"I regret speaking to you."
"Emotionally regretting?"
"Please stop."
Francesco laughed quietly while walking a few steps ahead beside Özil.
The German midfielder glanced toward the cloudy sky thoughtfully.
"Etihad will be difficult."
"Yes."
"But we look stronger again."
Francesco nodded once.
They did.
Not invincible.
No great team truly was.
But stronger.
More balanced.
More aware of themselves now.
And as Arsenal prepared for another massive Premier League clash beneath the grey skies of London Colney, the feeling around the club had transformed completely from the heaviness following Watford.
As the days moved closer toward Manchester, the atmosphere around Arsenal sharpened again.
Not tense.
Focused.
There was a difference.
The pressure surrounding a title race always existed, but this felt less like anxiety and more like awareness. Everyone at London Colney understood exactly what kind of match waited at the Etihad Stadium.
These were the games people remembered in May.
Not because they mathematically decided titles that early.
Because they revealed who could truly survive them.
Training intensity climbed naturally with every session.
Not through shouting.
Not through forced motivation.
Elite footballers didn't need speeches before matches like this.
The fixture itself created the energy.
Cold wind rolled across the training pitches one morning while Wenger stood near midfield watching possession drills unfold at full speed. Players moved sharper now. Tackles carried more edge. Every small-sided game suddenly felt personal.
Even recovery sessions became competitive somehow.
Walker blamed that entirely on "title-race emotional chemistry," which nobody understood except Walker himself.
Francesco arrived early most mornings during that week.
Part habit.
Part instinct.
Big matches always pulled extra focus from him naturally.
One morning he walked onto the training pitch while frost still clung lightly to the grass beneath pale London sunlight. Staff members moved equipment into place while a few academy players finished individual drills near the far side.
The training ground felt quieter before the full squad arrived.
Cleaner somehow.
You could hear footballs being struck properly in the cold air.
You could hear coaches talking from one end of the pitch to the other.
Francesco stood near the touchline stretching his legs while staring across the empty space ahead of him.
Etihad.
City away.
Those matches always sat differently in your chest before they arrived.
Not fear.
Anticipation.
Behind him footsteps approached through the grass.
Van Dijk.
"You're here early again," the Dutch defender observed.
"So are you."
"I'm responsible."
"You think I'm irresponsible?"
"Emotionally unpredictable."
Francesco smirked faintly.
Walker's nonsense vocabulary was spreading through the squad now like a disease.
Virgil glanced toward the sky.
"Big week."
"Yes."
The defender folded his arms loosely afterward.
"You can feel everyone locking in again."
Francesco nodded once.
He could.
The joking still existed around the squad, but underneath it sat concentration now. The closer the City match came, the more naturally conversations drifted toward tactical details, pressing triggers, defensive shape, movement between lines.
The small things.
The things that decided elite matches.
By the time the full squad gathered later that morning, training intensity had already climbed another level.
Kanté snapped into challenges immediately during midfield drills, recovering loose balls with the same terrifying consistency that made teammates question whether he secretly existed in multiple places simultaneously.
Alexis looked completely feral again.
Which usually meant Arsenal were emotionally healthy.
At one point during possession work he chased Robertson nearly thirty yards after losing the ball in training before winning it back aggressively and immediately demanding another pass.
Robertson stared at him.
"This is a rondo."
"Yes."
"You're defending like your family's trapped inside the ball."
"Good."
"No, not good."
Alexis simply pressed harder.
Typical.
Meanwhile Cazorla and Özil spent large portions of training humiliating people technically.
Not intentionally.
Just naturally.
Santi turned away from pressure in impossible spaces while Mesut threaded passes through defensive lines that honestly looked disrespectful to defenders trying their best.
During one sequence Özil flicked a no-look pass through Ramsey's legs directly into Francesco's path during a finishing drill.
Francesco scored automatically.
Ramsey stopped completely.
"I dislike both of you."
"That's emotional jealousy," Walker announced immediately from nearby.
"Please stop inventing phrases," Ramsey replied.
"They're revolutionary."
"No."
"Yes."
Wenger eventually blew the whistle sharply and gathered the starting group together near the tactical board positioned beside the pitch.
The players formed a semicircle around him while cold wind drifted across the training ground.
City clips already paused on the analysis screen.
Fast transitions.
Wide overloads.
Midfield rotations.
Everything looked dangerous because City always looked dangerous.
Wenger folded his arms calmly before speaking.
"They will try to make this match emotional very quickly."
There was that word again.
Emotion.
Always emotion now.
The entire squad listened carefully.
"At the Etihad, momentum changes rapidly," Wenger continued. "If they score, the crowd accelerates the game immediately. If we score, they become vulnerable emotionally."
Francesco stood beside Koscielny watching the frozen tactical images carefully.
Wenger pointed toward City's midfield shape.
"We cannot lose discipline during transitions."
Then toward Arsenal's attacking structure.
"And when opportunities arrive, we must attack decisively. Hesitation is dangerous there."
The manager paused briefly afterward before looking around at the players individually.
"This is not a match for fear."
Simple sentence.
Strong sentence.
Alexis nodded immediately.
Walker cracked his neck dramatically like someone preparing for battle in an action film.
Cazorla looked deeply amused by Walker's entire existence.
Francesco simply listened quietly.
Because Wenger was right.
Matches like this punished hesitation more than mistakes sometimes.
The session afterward became brutally sharp.
Full-pitch tactical work.
Pressing patterns.
Counterattacking structure.
Recovery positioning.
Every detail repeated again and again until movements became instinctive.
At one point Francesco dropped deeper during an attacking sequence and slipped a quick pass wide toward Robertson before spinning in behind the defensive line.
Özil immediately clipped the ball perfectly over the top.
Goal.
One touch finish.
Wenger pointed immediately.
"That movement," he called out. "Again."
The sequence repeated.
And repeated.
And repeated.
Football at the highest level often looked glamorous on television.
In reality, it was obsession with tiny details.
Tiny spaces.
Tiny timings.
Eventually training ended beneath light rain.
Players walked slowly back toward the indoor complex exhausted while steam rose faintly from the pitches in the cold air.
Walker immediately fell into step beside Robertson again.
"You know what rain before City means."
Robertson didn't even look at him this time.
"I genuinely blame your parents."
"That's hurtful."
"Necessary."
Behind them Alexis and Gnabry argued over finishing drills.
"I scored more."
"You also missed more."
"That's because I shoot more."
"That's not helping your argument."
"It's an attacking mentality."
Francesco walked a few steps ahead beside Cech while staff members collected equipment behind them.
The goalkeeper adjusted the sleeves of his training jacket slightly.
"You notice the media now?"
Francesco exhaled softly.
"Yes."
Because it had started fully now.
The build-up.
Everywhere.
The closer the City match came, the more football media transformed the fixture into something enormous.
TITLE RACE SHOWDOWN.
ARSENAL TESTED AT ETIHAD.
CAN CITY STOP ARSENAL MOMENTUM?
Every television in England suddenly seemed to show graphics comparing attacks, midfield control, defensive records, possession statistics.
Football pundits dissected everything.
Some believed Arsenal's recent run proved they were mentally stronger than previous seasons.
Others insisted City at the Etihad represented the real test.
Francesco honestly ignored most of it.
Not because he didn't care.
Because media narratives changed too quickly to live inside them.
One night after training he sat in the living room at Richmond while Leah curled beside him on the couch beneath a blanket and Cheddar slept upside down near the fireplace in a position that looked medically concerning.
Sky Sports filled the television again.
Of course.
The buildup had fully begun now.
A massive graphic stretched across the screen:
MANCHESTER CITY vs ARSENAL
TITLE RACE IMPLICATIONS?
Leah glanced toward the television.
"They're making it sound like civilization collapses if someone loses."
"That's football coverage."
"It's deeply dramatic."
"Correct."
The studio panel tonight included Neville, Carragher, Wright, and Roy Keane.
Which immediately guaranteed emotional violence.
The host started first.
"This feels massive already," he said. "Two teams in outstanding form. Two teams believing they can win the league."
The screen showed clips from Arsenal's recent victories.
Francesco's goal against Swansea.
Alexis screaming after scoring in Maribor.
Kanté intercepting passes endlessly.
Then City highlights followed.
Quick attacking combinations.
Explosive transitions.
The Etihad crowd roaring beneath floodlights.
Neville spoke first.
"This is the kind of game where emotional control becomes everything."
Leah pointed instantly.
"There's your word again."
"Football people are obsessed now."
Roy Keane leaned forward slightly.
"But City at home don't care about your emotional control if you can't handle intensity physically."
Classic Keane.
Subtlety had never interested him.
Carragher nodded thoughtfully.
"The interesting thing with Arsenal now is they look more mature after the Watford defeat."
The replay showed Arsenal conceding against Everton before responding calmly.
Carragher continued.
"Earlier in the season maybe they panic there again. Instead they settled themselves."
Wright smiled slightly.
"And Francesco's become central to that."
Leah immediately looked smug beside him.
Francesco looked visibly uncomfortable already.
"You hate this part," she observed.
"They talk too much."
"That's literally their job."
Fair point.
On television, Neville continued.
"You can see Wenger trusts him emotionally now in big moments."
The replay shifted toward Francesco organizing teammates at Goodison after Rooney's goal.
Then clips from the press conference appeared again.
"Responding after defeat builds character."
Roy Keane actually nodded slightly hearing the quote.
"That's true."
Everyone looked mildly shocked Keane agreed with something publicly.
Even the host noticed.
"That sounded almost complimentary, Roy."
"Don't push it."
Leah laughed softly into her tea.
The conversation shifted tactically afterward.
City's pressing against Arsenal's buildup.
Kanté against City's midfield runners.
Özil finding space between defensive lines.
Then inevitably the focus landed on Francesco again.
Carragher leaned back thoughtfully.
"What impresses me most isn't even the goals anymore. It's his understanding of rhythm now."
The screen replayed several moments of him slowing matches down after emotional swings.
Simple passes.
Gestures.
Communication.
Carragher pointed toward the footage.
"That's captaincy. Managing emotional momentum."
"There's the phrase again," Leah muttered.
Neville agreed immediately.
"And at the Etihad, that matters massively because City try to overwhelm teams emotionally during momentum swings."
Francesco stared quietly at the television for a second.
Because that part was true.
Completely true.
City were devastating once matches became frantic.
You couldn't feed them chaos.
Keane finally spoke again.
"I'll tell you one thing. Arsenal can't go there timid."
"No," Wright agreed. "But they also can't lose structure trying to prove something."
Exactly.
That balance.
Aggression without chaos.
Confidence without recklessness.
That was the challenge.
Cheddar suddenly woke up and barked loudly at the television as highlights showed Alexis celebrating again.
Leah looked down immediately.
"You support emotionally unstable pressing too?"
Cheddar wagged his tail proudly.
Francesco scratched behind the dog's ears absentmindedly.
"He appreciates intensity."
"That dog has spent too much time around footballers."
Probably true honestly.
The discussion eventually turned toward title implications.
The host leaned forward dramatically.
"Do Arsenal make a statement if they win at the Etihad?"
Neville answered immediately.
"Yes."
Carragher nodded too.
"Absolutely."
Roy Keane folded his arms.
"They make a statement either way if they compete properly."
Interesting answer.
Wright smiled slightly afterward.
"I think Arsenal already learned something important after Watford though."
The others looked toward him.
"They stopped trying to protect perfection."
That line lingered quietly in the room for a second.
Because it felt accurate.
Very accurate.
Leah glanced sideways toward Francesco afterward.
"He's right."
Francesco didn't answer immediately.
Maybe because he already knew.
The unbeaten run had carried pressure none of them fully admitted while it was happening. Every match slowly became about preserving something instead of simply competing freely.
Now that weight was gone.
And Arsenal looked sharper because of it.
The television eventually shifted toward predicted lineups and tactical graphics, but Francesco barely paid attention anymore.
Instead he leaned back slightly into the couch while rain continued softly outside the windows of the Richmond mansion.
Big match week.
You could feel it everywhere.
In training.
In media coverage.
In conversations between teammates.
Even in silence.
Leah rested her head lightly against his shoulder.
"Nervous?"
Francesco thought about it honestly.
"A little."
"That's healthy."
"Yes."
Then after a second:
"Mostly excited."
She smiled softly.
"That's also healthy."
Across the room Cheddar had already fallen asleep again clutching the tennis ball between his paws while football analysts continued debating title races, mentality, leadership, and tactical systems on television.
Outside, London remained cold and grey beneath another rainy evening. While inside, Arsenal's next challenge kept getting closer.
______________________________________________
Name : Francesco Lee
Age : 18 (2016)
Birthplace : London, England
Football Club : Arsenal First Team
Championship History : 2014/2015 Premier League, 2014/2015 FA Cup, 2015/2016 Community Shield, 2016/2017 Premier League, 2015/2016 Champions League, Euro 2016, Premier League Champion 2016/2017, and 2016/2017 Champions League.
Season 17/18 stats:
Arsenal:
Match: 19
Goal: 23
Assist: 1
MOTM: 2
POTM: 0
England:
Match: 2
Goal: 2
Assist: 0
MOTM: 0
Season 16/17 stats:
Arsenal:
Match: 55
Goal: 87
Assist: 5
MOTM: 14
POTM: 1
England:
Match: 1
Goal: 1
Assist: 0
MOTM: 0
Season 15/16 stats:
Arsenal:
Match Played: 60
Goal: 82
Assist: 10
MOTM: 9
POTM: 1
England:
Match Played: 2
Goal: 4
Assist: 0
Euro 2016
Match Played: 6
Goal: 13
Assist: 4
MOTM: 6
Season 14/15 stats:
Match Played: 35
Goal: 45
Assist: 12
MOTM: 9