New idea. Well, a reworking of an older one I had.
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“That's a fine boy you're raising there,” a man in a nice suit said to a bespectacled man in a dirty gi.
“What of it?” the man asked, moving between his son and the stranger.
“I apologise, sir, I meant nothing sinister,” the suited man bowed respectfully. “I was just lamenting that there are so many others who allow their children to squander their natural physical talents. Martial artists do not get the respect they deserve.”
The martial artist puffed up his chest in pride. “Yes, it's shame, but I promised to raise my son to a man amongst men. I can't fail him.”
“What if I offered you the opportunity to ensure that your son is a prime physical specimen? I can't do anything about his fighting skills, but I can help with his strength, stamina and poise.”
“I'm curious as to what you have to offer, but I know I cannot afford it. My son and I will have to do this old fashioned way.”
“I wouldn't charge you a single yen for this.”
“Why not?” the martial artist asked, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. He picked up his son. “Is this where I tell you to never speak to me or my son ever again?”
“Oh no, I apologise profusely, sir. I merely meant that it is an experimental treatment that does not guarantee results. You would be doing me a great favour by allowing me to... I hesitate to use the word experiment, but I fear I can't find a more suitable alternative.”
“You want me to risk my only son on a vague promise of him being a better martial artist? That I should let you stick him with countless needles on the off chance that he might be stronger?”
“Your method of training involves punching and kicking him,” the suited man countered.
“At least he will have earned every victory,” the man said as he turned to leave. “My son will not bring shame on me or our school by cheating with drugs.”
“Wait, what I meant to say is that you would also be compensated for your co-operation. Handsomely compensated. And it isn't performance enhancing drugs like they test for at the Olympics.”
The man paused. 'Money is tight right now...' “What are you planning for my son?”
“Just an examination and, if he's suitable, some treatments. There will be injections,” the suited man cautioned, “But not every day. The plan is regular observations. ”
“For how long? The total course of treatments, I mean.”
“You come to our lab every six months for a week. Two weeks, at the very maximum, depending on test results for the treatments, it could be something until he's 18.”
The martial artist considered the offer. Even if it didn't work out after this first meeting, he'd have a meal and a few yen to tide him over for the next few weeks while he figured out the next stage of training. And if it did work out well enough to bring them back every six months, then a guaranteed place for a week or two had its advantages too.
“Alright, take me to your lab, Mr.?”
“Urobuchi, Kozo Urobuchi,” the suited man said. “My employer, Amalgamated Life Sciences will be glad to see you and your son, Mr?”
“Saotome, Genma Saotome, and this is my son, Ranma.”
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