The next morning, everything in Class 6-C felt heavier.
The jokes, the laughter, the easy rhythm of the benches — all gone.
Roshan's seat was empty again, and Mayank's friends had already heard what happened.
Before first period, they marched straight to the staff room, faces pale but determined.
When the teacher entered the class, the air turned thick.
She placed her register on the desk, folded her arms, and asked,
"Did Roshan hit Mayank yesterday?"
Silence.
No one moved. No one even breathed.
The entire class stared down at their desks.
Roshan's crew sat in the back, arms crossed, eyes cold.
One of them whispered just loud enough, "Say a word and you'll regret it."
Mayank could feel his pulse pounding.
He wanted to speak — to end this — but his throat refused.
When the teacher realized no one would talk, she sighed and left the room.
The bell rang soon after, but the silence stayed.
---
Roshan returned the next day.
The moment he stepped in, everyone could sense it.
Something ugly hung around him — a glare that cut through the class.
He slammed his bag on the last bench.
Then, slowly, he turned toward Mayank.
"So," he said, smirking, "you went crying to the teachers?"
Mayank froze.
He barely managed, "I didn't—"
The first hit came before the sentence could end.
A shove, then another.
This time it wasn't playful. It hurt.
The class went silent again — thirty eyes watching, nobody daring to move.
Mayank's friends weren't there yet.
The teacher had just left for the staff meeting.
And Roshan wasn't done.
He stepped closer, ready to strike again.
That's when a hand grabbed his wrist.
"Enough," said a calm, low voice.
Krishanu.
He'd been sitting two benches away, head lowered, pretending to read.
Now he stood — expression unreadable, eyes cold.
"Back off," Roshan spat. "This isn't your business."
Krishanu didn't move.
"Hit him again," he said softly, "and I'll make it mine."
The class went dead still.
Roshan laughed — a sharp, mocking sound.
"You? You're the teacher's pet, the topper. What'll you do, write a complaint?"
Mayank opened his mouth — "Krishanu, just leave it—" — but it was too late.
Roshan swung first.
A sharp slap across Mayank's shoulder — a warning hit.
Krishanu didn't dodge.
He waited for that.
And then he moved.
One jab — quick, perfect — straight to Roshan's cheek.
A hook followed, then another punch that cracked through the classroom air like thunder.
Roshan stumbled backward, blood spurting from his nose.
Before anyone could blink, he hit the ground.
Gasps erupted around the room.
For a second, no one could believe what they'd just seen.
The quiet prodigy had just *knocked out* the class delinquent.
But it wasn't over.
Roshan's friends jumped in — three of them.
Desks screeched. A chair toppled.
And suddenly, Class 6-C turned into a battlefield.
The first boy swung at Krishanu, connecting a punch to his side.
Krishanu gritted his teeth, grabbed him by the collar, and *smashed his head against the wooden desk*.
The sound echoed — a dull thud that made everyone flinch.
Another boy lunged — Krishanu pivoted, kicking him square in the chest.
He crashed into the wall, knocking down a chart of multiplication tables.
"Stop!" someone screamed.
No one did.
The third boy came from behind, landing a punch to Krishanu's back.
He staggered, fell — then rolled, caught the attacker's leg, and *pulled*.
The boy fell face-first, howling in pain.
Chaos. Pure chaos.
Books scattered. Benches overturned.
Mayank tried to move forward but someone pulled him back.
"Don't," a voice whispered. "He's got this."
When the dust finally settled, three bodies lay groaning on the floor.
Roshan, his nose still bleeding, sat up just enough to see his crew beaten and sprawled around him.
And in the center of the room stood Krishanu — breathing hard, fists red, eyes blazing.
The same boy who always said "please" and "thank you."
The one teachers called *the perfect student.*
Now standing alone amid the wreckage, looking nothing like the boy Mayank once knew.
The entire class stared, frozen.
No one spoke.
Krishanu slowly turned to Mayank.
"You okay?" he asked.
Mayank nodded wordlessly.
Krishanu looked back at the fallen delinquents, then exhaled.
"Good."
He picked up his bag, walked to his seat, and sat down as if nothing had happened.
Outside, the bell rang for the end of recess.
Inside, thirty students sat in stunned silence.
No one dared to breathe too loudly.
Because from that day on, everyone knew—
6-C's golden boy had changed.
To be continued…