Kenneth advanced with the ball at his feet, his movements sharp and deliberate. George Evans stood in his path, ready to block him. Kenneth shifted his weight to the right, hinting at a dart in that direction. Evans reacted immediately, stepping to intercept. But in a flash, Kenneth executed a flawless feint, shifting his body and pushing the ball to the left. Evans, caught off balance, was left rooted to the spot, completely outplayed.
With Evans behind him, Kenneth surged forward, his eyes locked on the penalty area. Adarabioyo stepped up as the next line of defense, his towering presence trying to close the space. Kenneth nudged the ball into the box and sprinted after it. Adarabioyo stretched out a leg, aiming to clear the ball, but Kenneth read the move perfectly. With a deft touch, he pulled the ball back, then pushed it past his opponent, leaving Adarabioyo chasing shadows.
Now inside the penalty area, Kenneth cut sharply to the inside, his movement smooth and controlled. Angus Gunn, watching intently from his line, anticipated a shot to the far post, positioning himself accordingly. Kenneth, noticing Gunn's shift, smirked. Instead of going for the far post, he unleashed a precise shot to the near post, catching Gunn completely off guard. The ball slammed into the back of the net before Gunn could react.
Kenneth turned and glanced at the defenders, a playful grin on his face. "You guys are too easy. You'll need to work harder to stop me."
Adarabioyo, still catching his breath, shook his head in disbelief. "It's not us; it's you," he retorted, his voice tinged with frustration. "How have you gotten so much stronger so quickly? Has your senior debut really made that big of a difference?"
Kenneth chuckled softly, savoring the moment. Adarabioyo's bafflement was a testament to how far Kenneth had come. Compared to the start of the season, Kenneth wasn't just better—he was on a whole new level, a player transforming before their very eyes.
In this training session, Vieira had divided his team into groups of five for a five-a-side game. Kenneth's dominance was overwhelming, with his team consistently scoring over ten goals per match, despite each half lasting only 15 minutes.
Kenneth sat on the sidelines, catching his breath as the next teams took their positions on the small practice field. The sounds of shouts and ball strikes filled the air, but Kenneth's focus drifted momentarily, observing the rhythm of the game.
"Catch."
The voice snapped him back. A water bottle flew toward him from the side, and with quick reflexes, Kenneth snatched it mid-air.
Pablo Maffeo strolled over and plopped down beside him, a slight smirk on his face.
"Thanks," Kenneth said, twisting the cap open and taking a few deep gulps. The cold water was refreshing against the heat of the afternoon.
"Do you remember what you said about inverted full-backs?"
Kenneth turned to face Maffeo, eyebrows raised. The conversation from a few days ago flashed in his mind—their discussion about evolving full-back roles and how the future might belong to players who could invert into midfield.
"Yeah, I remember. Why do you ask?"
Maffeo's demeanor shifted, the playful edge fading from his expression. "I want to try that role," he said with quiet determination.
Kenneth leaned forward, intrigued. "What's made you interested in it all of a sudden?"
Maffeo, a natural right-back with well-balanced footwork, was a player who could hold his own on either flank. His offensive runs and defensive contributions were solid, bolstered by relentless stamina and an unyielding work rate. Yet, Kenneth knew his friend wasn't exceptional in any single aspect—versatile but not a specialist. Maffeo was the type of player who could thrive at a smaller club but might struggle to stand out in the competitive environment of a top-tier team.
"When I watch you with the senior team," Maffeo began, his voice steady but laced with admiration, "I see how you can adapt to so many positions. Defensive midfielder, attacking midfielder, winger—it doesn't matter what the coach needs; you can do it all."
He sighed, his gaze dropping momentarily. "I'm not confident I'll ever be a starter at a big club. But if I can master multiple roles and styles, I think I can make myself useful—maybe as a substitute who can slot in anywhere when needed."
Kenneth nodded, recalling a similar sentiment Maffeo had shared before: he'd rather be a reliable squad player at a top club than a regular starter at a mid-table team. It was a pragmatic approach, but one rooted in ambition nonetheless.
"I'll talk to the boss about it," Kenneth said firmly. "Vieira will back you up for sure."
Patrick Vieira, the youth team coach, had a reputation for nurturing players and supporting their growth. If a player showed genuine interest in changing roles or exploring new tactical possibilities, Vieira was always willing to provide guidance and adjust his methods to help them succeed.
"Thanks," Maffeo said, the seriousness in his tone easing into a grin. "I owe you lunch for this."
Kenneth chuckled, taking another sip of water. "No problem. Just make sure you're buying."
The two sat there for a moment longer, the bond of teammates and friends unspoken but palpable as they watched the game in silence, their minds already envisioning what the next steps might bring.
After the session, Kenneth relayed Maffeo's request to Vieira. True to his nature, Vieira fully supported the idea. He even adjusted the team's tactics slightly to accommodate Maffeo, while providing specialized training on playing as a defensive midfielder, the core position for an inverted full-back.
In just a few days, Maffeo grew comfortable with his new role. Vieira adapted his tactics accordingly, transitioning the team from a 4-3-3 to a 3-2-2-3 formation during attacks.
In this setup, Maffeo played as an inverted full-back on the left, while Bossaerts functioned as a defensive right-back, staying back alongside the two center-backs. In front of them, Maffeo moved centrally, pairing with a defensive midfielder.
Ahead of them were two attacking midfielders, often Kenneth and a rotation of players like Bersant Celina or Oliver Ntcham. The front line featured two wingers and a striker.
Meanwhile, on February 11, Manchester City faced Stoke City in an away game, securing a 4-1 victory. Aguero scored a brace in the 33rd and 70th minutes, with Milner and Nasri adding goals in the 55th and 76th minutes, respectively.
This win kept City close behind Chelsea in the title race. Unfortunately for City, Chelsea edged out Everton with a last-minute goal from Willian in the 89th minute at Stamford Bridge. Chelsea's narrow victory maintained their lead in the standings.
With no fixtures scheduled until February 21 due to the FA Cup, City, having been eliminated, used the time to rest and prepare for their upcoming match against Barcelona.
Kenneth utilized the break to focus on his studies, catching up on missed lessons and completing a pile of homework.
On February 16, he submitted a leave request to the club, seeking time off from February 17 to 21 to celebrate the Lunar New Year.
On February 17, Kenneth and his mother arrived in China, warmly welcomed by his grandparents. Despite his age, Kenneth's grandfather was still full of energy, while his grandmother, July, always cheerful, had prepared a feast of family favorites.
They ate together, sharing laughter and stories as Kenneth's grandfather reminisced about his years in England before returning to China.
His grandparents asked him many questions about his life there and his football career.
"So, when are you moving to Liverpool?" his grandfather teased, his eyes twinkling mischievously under the afternoon sun.
"Hah? No, Grandpa. I'm a City player. I'm not moving there," Kenneth replied, shaking his head with a smile, amused by his grandfather's attempt to provoke him.
"Manchester United?" his grandfather continued, a cheeky grin spreading across his face.
"Never," Kenneth answered firmly, his tone growing serious as determination flickered in his eyes. "That club is our eternal rival."
His grandfather frowned theatrically before letting out a soft chuckle. "If not to an English club, how about AC Milan?"
"The Italian league is done for," Kenneth shrugged. "Since 2006, it's been in steady decline."
Commercially, financially, and in other aspects, Italian clubs lagged far behind English teams.
His grandfather leaned back in his chair, studying Kenneth with curiosity. "What about Real Madrid?"
"I'd rather beat them than join them."
There was no denying Real Madrid's status as the greatest club in football history, a legacy that would remain untouchable. But Kenneth wasn't interested in joining them.
Any achievements he earned there would pale in comparison to the club's storied history.
His grandfather nodded slowly, admiring his grandson's fighting spirit. "So why not move to a big club?"
"City is the club—" Kenneth paused, then added, "Forget it. This club has everything to become great."
As a relatively blank slate, Kenneth was drawn to the idea of shaping City's history with his own hands.