Football: Arsenal - Chapter 19: You Mean Arsenal Will Have a Twenty-Year-Old Kane Next Season? (Patreon)

Buffon's one-on-one coaching was excellent. The simulated goalkeeper looked and behaved almost exactly like the real man.

He stood in front of the goal, patiently demonstrating techniques and correcting Kieran's movements.

“To me, the most important quality in a goalkeeper is the ability to read the game. So start by asking yourself: if I were the opposing striker, where would I put the ball?”

Kieran listened solemnly and considered the question. If he were a striker... Hmm. Wasn't he already one?

“Exactly. Imagine yourself as the striker. Whether you're aiming for the near post, the far post or straight down the middle, most decisions leave clues...”

And so Buffon began teaching in earnest, trying to pass on everything he knew about goalkeeping at once.

Kieran had almost no foundation in the position, yet by the time he finished, he felt confident enough to say that if he changed jobs, he could probably win a starting place at a League Two club!

Not that he actually intended to become a goalkeeper.

The point was to view shooting from the opposite side, working backward from a keeper's decisions to learn how to finish more intelligently and efficiently.

The most striking improvement was to his [Penalties] attribute, which soared from 30 to 90.

After all, a penalty was a one-on-one showdown between the taker and the goalkeeper.

It might be a duel, but the goalkeeper was the one at a disadvantage. With the penalty spot so close to the goal, a keeper usually had to anticipate where the shot would go.

Once he'd chosen a direction and committed himself, changing course was nearly impossible. That was why taking a penalty could be as much a psychological battle as a technical one.

Guess the right way, and it became a spectacular save. Guess wrong, and most supporters wouldn't blame the keeper too harshly.

After Buffon's generous instruction, Kieran considered himself a master of penalty-kick psychology!

Seeing shooting through a goalkeeper's eyes had also taught him a few fresh tricks about finishing in open play.

Some unknowable amount of time passed.

Next came Wenger's and Arteta's tactical lessons. Kieran attended all of them, developing a much clearer understanding of positioning and cooperation between teammates.

It felt as though he'd suddenly acquired a bird's-eye view of the whole pitch. So this was what improving your football intelligence felt like!

He went back through everyone else's lessons repeatedly as well. Across the board, his abilities advanced dramatically.

Then, without warning, red light flashed throughout the training room.

[Warning: Host's mental fatigue has reached its maximum. Please leave the training room immediately.]

Only now did Kieran realize the place couldn't be used without limits.

Still, he had no complaints. The Timeless Training Room was amazing, and he'd enjoyed every minute of practice!

True to its name, he hadn't sensed time passing at all. He knew he'd been training for a long while, but had no idea how long.

With a solid physical foundation to build on, relearning skills had come quickly. His attributes looked completely different now.

[Attributes:]

[Shooting — 91 (↑36)]

[Heading — 71 (↑1)]

[Penalties — 91 (↑61)]

[Free Kicks — 85 (↑66)]

[Speed — 99]

[Anticipation — 90 (↑4)]

[Dribbling — 65 (↑20)]

[First Touch — 100]

[Passing — 85 (↑22)]

[Vision — 90 (↑4)]

[Defending — 82 (↑52)]

[Stamina — 97 (↑1)]

[Strength — 87 (↑7)]

[Mentality — 95 (↑1)]

[Leadership — 90]

A complete transformation!

Other than dribbling and heading, which stood out as comparatively weak, the numbers were almost outrageously good.

Even his heading wasn't a total disaster. His jumping height and ability to hang in the air were decent; otherwise, that rating might have been even worse.

With red warnings still pulsing over the training pasture, Kieran chose to exit.

He shut his eyes, opened them again and found himself back in bed. His room looked exactly as it had before he'd entered the system.

The practice session seemed to have lasted only an instant—and an eternity at the same time.

His brain had stopped cooperating. All he wanted was to curl up in bed and sleep until the end of the world.

There was something he'd forgotten, though. He could almost remember what it was...

Before he could think any further, his mind switched itself off. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.

Meanwhile, at the airport, Buffon opened Twitter and Instagram on his phone and pushed his hair back from his forehead.

He refreshed the screens, looked them over, and checked them again. His phone definitely wasn't frozen.

After pondering the matter, he asked around and discovered that Kieran hadn't followed any of the other Juventus players back either.

He reluctantly found an explanation. The boy was still growing, after all, and had expended so much energy in the match. Of course he needed to get to bed early.

Yes. That must be it.

He wasn't angry. Not in the slightest.

Buffon folded his arms on a sofa in the airport lounge and stared expressionlessly at the back of the seat opposite.

Just then—

Beep!

Ding-dong, ding-dong!

Beep!

His phone was ringing.

[Kieran Lee, whom you follow, has followed you back. You're now mutual followers!]

That's right. Kieran, who had supposedly been shut down for the night, had climbed straight back out of bed!

He'd had the nagging feeling he'd promised to do something. There was no way he was going to sleep before keeping his word.

The instant he woke, he remembered.

Oh, no! He'd made a new friend today, and he'd been the one who suggested following each other's social media. Then he'd gone home and fallen asleep without doing it. How rude was that?

The truth was, he'd almost forgotten he even owned a phone. He hadn't taken it out since returning to the dorm. In fact, he hadn't touched it at all since arriving in this world.

It was still buried in his training bag.

Kieran turned on the light, got up and found it. After carefully figuring out the apps, he followed Buffon on Twitter and Instagram.

Then he followed the other Juventus players, too. He even added their manager, Conte.

His Arsenal teammates had all been followed when he'd first set up his Twitter account.

Finally, Kieran breathed a sigh of relief.

He opened a private Twitter conversation with Buffon.

[Kieran: Gigi, have you boarded yet? Get some proper rest when you arrive home. Sleep well!]

Buffon had already forgotten all about his earlier irritation. He began chatting away immediately, and the two kept talking until it was nearly time to board.

[Buffon: We're about to board. Let's add each other on WhatsApp first!]

[Kieran: OK!]

Kieran opened WhatsApp on his phone.

Messages flooded the screen at once.

Thanks to the body's inherited memories, he had some idea that he'd been popular, but seeing just how many people cared about him was still astonishing.

[Beep—system detection: future star players Harry Kane, Michael Olise and Declan Rice.]

[Their friendship values toward the host are 93%, 82% and 89%, respectively.]

[The host may currently receive 2,580 Star Points.]

Kieran froze.

Then he sprang fully awake, more alert than he'd been at any point that night!

Was this what people meant by money falling out of the sky?

More than two thousand Star Points!

His eyes shone as he studied the phone.

First, he hurriedly added Buffon, who was about to board his flight. Then he went back through WhatsApp carefully.

Thank goodness he'd remembered his Twitter promise. It had led to exchanging WhatsApp details, which in turn had reminded him this app existed. Otherwise, with a brain still struggling to adjust to these memories and this era, he might have forgotten about it entirely.

There were congratulations from all sorts of people: his parents, other relatives, and senior figures in football such as Bergkamp and Henry.

His friends had written as well. Kane, Olise and Rice were among them.

Of course Kieran recognized those three names. He'd watched the World Cup in his previous life, and could more or less place each player.

But how did he know them personally?

He searched his memories, but nothing came.

Human memories were often fragmentary, like reels of footage that only played when someone went looking for them. Some things simply didn't come to mind unprompted.

And his own head had apparently lost an alarming amount. He couldn't remember hitting the post, suffering a concussion, or even the process of recovering from it.

The next clear memories he had were from just a week ago, when he'd resumed training with Arsenal's first team.

With no better option, he searched online for the players' current circumstances. Professional footballers' careers tended to be well documented. Maybe he'd find something.

Luckily, his very first search for Harry Kane brought up a result.

According to the page, Kane had been promoted from Arsenal's academy to the senior squad during the 2011–12 season and had spent the intervening period out on loan.

At present, he was on loan to Premier League club Reading and was expected to return to Arsenal after this season.

Kieran blinked.

Arsenal's academy?

So that meant they were old schoolmates!

Suddenly, as he finished reading the entry, an entire rush of memories surged into his head.

The impact left his vision dimming. It was almost as bad as getting launched into the air by those cows in the training room!

But there was good news. When the rush passed, he remembered everything about his relationship with Kane.

Harry Kane, one of his favorite strikers to use in football games in his previous life and the future captain of England at the World Cup, was a close friend in this one.

Given Kieran's personality, he seemed to have a lot of close friends. But Kane was a particularly special case: they'd practically grown up together.

They had met when Kieran was six and Kane was nine.

Back then, Kane had already spent three years at Arsenal's academy. He was a chubby little boy, and his physique didn't meet the academy's standards. The coaches were thinking of letting him go.

Kieran, who'd spent his childhood around Arsenal's academy, might have been tiny, but he already had a mind of his own.

Kane was an honest, kind older boy who'd always looked after him. Whenever he found something tasty to eat or fun to play with, Kieran was the first person he thought of.

When six-year-old Kieran heard that Kane might be sent away, he refused to accept it.

He grabbed Kane and secretly went to see Wenger, where he launched into a full-scale sales pitch on his friend's behalf.

Like a miniature football agent, Kieran explained over and over how gifted Kane was. Wenger, listening seriously to this tiny advocate, couldn't help laughing.

Whether it was Kieran's pitch that made the difference or not, Wenger took a careful look at Kane's abilities.

He discovered that apart from being somewhat overweight, the boy had excellent fundamentals and an abundance of talent.

So Kane wasn't simply a little fat kid. He was an unusually agile little fat kid, with a future worth watching.

Wenger, never one to waste talent, spoke to the academy coaches.

As the architect of so much of Arsenal's modern academy and scouting structure, his words naturally carried weight. Kane stayed in Arsenal's youth system, and remained there from then on.

It had proved an excellent decision. Kane had grown into a healthy physique, adapted well to Premier League physicality and was improving at a visible rate.

Kieran had never followed club football closely enough in his previous life to realize that, in that world, Kane really had been released by Arsenal's academy and joined the youth setup of their bitter local rivals, Tottenham.

He simply knew that, in this world, Kane was one of his best friends. And with all those memories returning at once, he suddenly missed the guy.

He replied to Kane's congratulations immediately, and the two chatted for quite a while.

Olise and Rice were harder to investigate. Kieran couldn't find anything useful about them online.

One was five years younger than him, the other three. Neither was old enough to have much information published, so that wasn't surprising.

He scrolled through their old messages instead and discovered that both apparently played in the youth academy of another London club: Chelsea, one of the Premier League's traditional Big Four.

Not a single personal memory of either boy came back.

That didn't stop Kieran from replying warmly, though. With friendship values like those, there was no way they weren't close!

As for the missing memories? That was a little problem, nothing more. When he had some time, he could visit Chelsea's academy and meet them. Maybe seeing their faces would bring everything back.

Eventually, he'd answered everyone on his list.

Now he truly couldn't keep his eyes open any longer. He was going to sleep, no matter what!

He closed his eyes. A second later, his breathing had already settled into a peaceful rhythm.