"Haa, what a hectic day it has been," Nitish muttered, his voice echoing in the small, dimly lit apartment. He tossed his backpack onto the rickety chair with a careless thud, then collapsed onto the worn-out sofa, staring blankly at the stained ceiling above. His shirt, torn and bloodied, clung to his skin, the fabric soaked with the day's battles. Faded bruises decorated his arms and torso, souvenirs of yet another confrontation. He closed his eyes, willing himself to forget, but the memories surged forward, relentless and unbidden, playing in his mind like an unwanted reel of film.
Nitish had always wanted to be average. He despised expectations, hated the pressure that came with being exceptional. It was an inheritance from his parents, whose every action was scrutinized by society. His grandparents had set impossibly high standards for them, standards that left no room for mistakes. They were never around—not really. His parents were always working, always striving to maintain the legacy that had been imposed upon them. Nitish loved them deeply, and they loved him in return, but their love was obscured by the weight of societal expectations. Even the slightest misstep could tarnish everything they had built, and Nitish had grown weary of witnessing their struggles. He had given his parents a final hug, his heart heavy with the knowledge that he was leaving them to face the world alone, and he had moved to a remote city to escape the crushing burden of expectations.
In this new city, Nitish stood out. The only brown kid in the entire school, he was an easy target for bullies. His wealthy background made him even more conspicuous, though he chose to live in a rundown 1BHK flat surrounded by a neighborhood of hookers, drug addicts, and criminals. He had become adept at slipping in and out of the apartment without attracting attention, always timing his departures and returns to avoid the unsavory characters that roamed the streets.
Nitish had been homeschooled until now, and his knowledge far surpassed that of his peers. Even the teachers were astounded by his intelligence, showering him with praise he found exhausting. Nitish craved normalcy, to blend into the background and live a life free from the suffocating expectations that had defined his upbringing. He tried his hand at various extracurricular activities, excelling effortlessly in everything he attempted. He was a prodigy, a born genius with god-given talents that made him unstoppable. But that was the problem: he was too good, too perfect, and perfection bored him.
He had even dabbled in martial arts, hoping the physical discipline would provide an escape. Within two weeks, he had bested his trainer, his natural abilities once again proving too much for any challenge. By the time he turned sixteen—the age at which he had finally fled his parents' home—Nitish was proficient in almost everything. He had tried to immerse himself in hobbies, in pursuits that might numb the incessant noise of expectations, but nothing stuck. That was when he discovered anime. He stumbled upon "Eminence in Shadow," and the main character's desire to live an average life resonated deeply with him. Nitish found solace in the idea of being unremarkable, of fading into the background. He wanted to be average, just like that character. But reality, as he was soon to learn, had other plans.
Determined to blend in, Nitish had taken a bold step: he had approached Kelly, the school's most popular girl, and confessed his feelings. He didn't expect her to say yes—no, that would have been too easy. But being rejected by Kelly was a calculated move, a way to cement his status as a nobody. Kelly had laughed at his awkward proposal, her mocking laughter ringing in his ears long after she had walked away. But Nitish didn't mind. It was all part of the plan.
However, not everyone was content to let Nitish fade into obscurity. Jason, a classic bully with a reputation to uphold, had also been rejected by Kelly. Seeing Nitish, a nobody, muster the courage to ask her out ignited something in Jason—a mixture of jealousy and rage. Jason had spent nearly a year cultivating a friendship with Kelly, only to be turned down. And now, here was Nitish, waltzing in and casually doing what Jason had agonized over for months. It didn't matter that Nitish's proposal had ended in rejection; what mattered was that he had tried, that he had dared to step into Jason's territory.
Jason's retaliation was swift and relentless. He rallied his friends, a band of sycophants eager to please their leader, and together they made Nitish's life hell. Whenever they saw an opportunity, they would corner him, shoving, hitting, taunting. Nitish's thin, wiry frame made him an easy target, and he quickly learned to endure their blows in silence. The school turned a blind eye to the bullying; Jason was the son of an influential figure, and no one wanted to get involved. Teachers ignored the bruises, the cuts, the signs that something was wrong. And so, the beatings continued, with no one to stand up for the quiet, unassuming boy who simply wanted to be average.
Nitish bore the abuse with a strange sense of satisfaction. It was new, this feeling of being powerless, of being at the mercy of others. For so long, he had been in control, his talents and intelligence shielding him from failure or defeat. But now, he was vulnerable, exposed. He let the bullies have their fun, let them believe they were in control, all the while knowing that he could end it if he chose to. Nitish was no ordinary victim; he was a prodigy, a genius, a martial artist who could take down his attackers with ease. But he played his role to perfection, feigning weakness, enduring their taunts and punches as if he were powerless. He had wanted to be average, and this was what average felt like—helpless, insignificant, ordinary.
The girls at school were no kinder. They saw Nitish's slight build, his habit of hiding behind oversized sweaters, and they too found amusement in tormenting him. They formed a group, a twisted club dedicated to finding new ways to humiliate him. They taunted him for his appearance, his clothes, his quiet demeanor. They spread rumors, whispering behind his back, making sure he never felt at ease. Nitish watched it all unfold with a detached curiosity, as though it were happening to someone else. He had read about bullying, seen it depicted in the shows he watched, but experiencing it firsthand was different. It was raw, visceral, real. And in a strange way, he relished it. This was a challenge he hadn't faced before, an experience that couldn't be conquered with intelligence or skill. It was messy and unpredictable, and for once, Nitish felt alive.
As Nitish lay on the sofa, his eyes closed, the day's events replayed in his mind. He remembered the punches, the jeers, the laughter of his tormentors. He remembered the sting of rejection, the isolation of being the only brown kid in a sea of unfamiliar faces. He remembered the cold, indifferent stares of the teachers who refused to see, who turned a blind eye to his suffering. But most of all, he remembered the quiet resolve that had settled in his chest. This was his life now, and he would endure it, not because he was weak, but because he chose to.
Nitish opened his eyes, staring up at the cracked ceiling of his apartment. The dull throb of his bruises was a constant reminder of the day's events, but he ignored the pain. He had been through worse. He would get through this, too. For now, he would let the world believe he was average, a nobody. But deep down, Nitish knew the truth. He was far from ordinary, and one day, when the time was right, he would show them all just how wrong they had been. Until then, he would bide his time, playing the role of the average kid who couldn't catch a break. He would endure the beatings, the taunts, the loneliness. Because sometimes, the best way to win was to let everyone underestimate you. And Nitish had always been good at playing the long game.
Nitish sat up, wincing slightly as the movement pulled at his bruised skin. He glanced at his torn shirt, stained with dried blood, and let out a soft sigh. This was the price of normalcy, of blending in, of trying to live a life free from the burdens of greatness. But Nitish had never been one to back down from a challenge. He would take the hits, bear the scars, and keep moving forward. He had wanted to be average, but this world—his world—had other plans. And if that meant he had to be the villain in someone else's story, then so be it. Nitish was ready to play whatever role was necessary to survive, even if it meant embracing the darkness that lurked within.