The echo of the principal's voice still rang in my ears that morning.
Every classroom speaker crackled to life as he read out the names and punishments. The whole school went quiet. Even students who had nothing to do with it listened like it was a breaking-news broadcast.
"Roshan Kumar, Aniket Sharma, Prashant Verma, and Deepak Singh—suspended for one month."
A pause.
"Krishanu Das—suspended for one week."
The announcement ended with a few strict lines about discipline, but the damage—or maybe the legend—was already done.
Everyone now knew.
When Krishanu and I walked into 6-C, the air felt heavy.
Whispers fluttered like paper birds.
"That's him…"
"The guy who fought four at once…"
"I heard seniors backed him up!"
Some looked curious, some impressed, others scared.
Krishanu ignored them all. He just walked to his seat, slid his bag under the desk, and opened his notebook like nothing had changed.
I followed, trying to act normal.
The teacher entered a minute later, scanning the room. Even she hesitated before starting attendance.
The rest of the day passed in quiet ripples—no one dared approach him, yet everyone kept stealing glances. It was strange; the boy everyone once admired as the "golden student" had become something else—half hero, half warning.
---
By the next week, the whispers softened into background noise. Rumors spread across grades about the fight, about the seniors at the gate, about how the "kid prodigy" had turned out to be stronger than anyone thought. Some stories made him sound like a movie hero; others made him sound dangerous.
But Krishanu?
He didn't react to any of it.
He just came back from suspension, greeted me with that same small grin, and said, "So, what did I miss?"
We both laughed. For the first time in weeks, it felt normal again.
Most students still avoided him—maybe out of fear, maybe respect. Group work, lunch breaks, even games in the field… he stayed a little apart. But I could tell he didn't mind.
If anything, he seemed calmer—like he'd burned out every bit of anger and was just… still.
---
Days became weeks. The other four boys eventually returned too. They didn't look the same.
Their eyes darted around whenever they entered class, as if expecting ghosts to jump out.
No one teased them; no one spoke to them. They submitted a section-change request almost immediately, and the teachers approved it.
When they left 6-C, the whole class exhaled in relief.
Just like that, the storm was over.
Classes went on. Homework piled up. Teachers smiled again.
And slowly, life returned to the rhythm it had before the fight—almost as if nothing had ever happened.
---
Then came the Unit Test.
I remember the morning clearly: cool air, faint winter breeze through the corridor windows, the smell of chalk and new notebooks.
Krishanu looked confident as always, tapping his pen against the desk. "Loser buys samosas," he joked.
I grinned. "Deal."
When results were announced, my name came first.
His came second—by just two marks.
I still remember the smirk on his face. "Huh. Looks like the prodigy fell behind."
"Only for now," I teased.
It felt good—like we'd finally stepped back into the days before everything went wrong.
---
Winter arrived before we knew it.
The air turned crisp, the mornings foggy. Teachers began talking about festivals, Christmas decorations, and the upcoming vacation and the finals after the vacation .
The fight, the meeting, the tension—all of it became stories whispered by juniors who hadn't even seen it.
As the last bell rang before the break, Krishanu stretched and said, "Finally. A whole month of peace."
I nodded, smiling. "Yeah… we deserve it."
We walked out of class together into the soft winter sunlight.
Our shadows stretched long across the ground—two ordinary kids again.
At least, that's what I thought.
Because somewhere deep down, I could still sense it—the world around us had quieted, but Krishanu's story… hadn't stopped moving yet.
To be continued…
---