Boy Fortune Wouldn't Kill

Rian had always been called lucky. Ever since he was born on 8/8, he'd won fixed games and hit on lottery tickets. People talked like he was some blessing sent by god himself. He wasn't. "Rian, scratch this ticket off for me!" "Rian, you're lucky, win me that bear!" "Rian, hand me money! You can win it back later! Don't deny your mother." His gift was awful; people used him like a toy, and right when he started believing he could trust his parents, they used him too. They asked for his money... no, they took it. If he kept it from them, which he often did, he got beaten for it. His parents hadn't cared when he was born and they weren't going to start now. They only wanted the money he made so they could call it theirs. They told everyone, "Pure blood, sweat, and tears are what get you this." Rian almost grimaced whenever he heard that line. He'd won every bit of that money; it wasn't theirs. It was his cash, the money he had endured beating after beating to keep earning. But he could never say that aloud; they'd beat the thought out of him. His father didn't care if he refused to scratch his lottery tickets. He'd press them into Rian's hands with a coin and walk out, then return for the prize money when it hit. His mom wanted even more than that. So she turned to the shrewdest plan she could devise. She built an underground boxing club where people could put money on fighters. When Rian learned about it, he didn't mind. Bet on somebody, collect the money, move on to the next round of people. But of course, nothing ever came easy for him. His mother made him fight. She hired the best teachers, added extra classes on strategy and fighting, and did anything she could to make her "precious" boy win. Rian complained once, and the beating afterward was bad enough that he had to sleep on an extra-padded mattress just to rest. So Rian listened. He fought from night until midday, then spent whatever time was left drilling tougher forms until he knew them well enough to train others. That only took a year. But winning came with consequences. People decided it was all a scam, and riots followed. The ring didn't survive for long after that, their underground rink becoming nothing but a dusty room choked with debris and wreckage. Someone bombed them, plain and simple, hoping to kill Rian in the blast. They might've done it if Rian's luck hadn't held. The one thing he lost was that incredible hearing of his. He wasn't fully deaf, but certain frequencies simply disappeared on him. For example, screaming of any kind sounded almost like whispering. Still, his mother didn't stop. She set up another place and kept it quieter this time, so another explosion seemed less likely. Rian didn't mind that part; it meant less fighting and more time to himself. What he didn't know was that time alone would turn into hell. He had no idea how to approach people like a normal person, with his parents having hidden him from everybody. He'd never spent time with kids his own age or with adults in any setting that wasn't a fight. It was like a brick wall had been built around his heart, nobody entering, nobody leaving. Not that there was anyone inside anyway. Then one day, out on a walk after his shift ended, he spotted a little girl alone in the road. At first, he barely thought anything of it; surely a parent would come get her... right? When nobody did, Rian moved before he had time to think.