"We've never trained together," I pointed out.
He laughed, a booming sound that filled the room and probably woke half the neighborhood. "Exactly! High time we changed that. Your old man's got a few tricks he could teach you."
Old man. Your old man. I suppressed a shudder at the phrase. This mountain of muscle and optimism was nothing like the cold, calculating yakuza patriarch who'd taught me how to break a man's will along with his body.
"Actually," I said, my mind shifting gears into manipulation mode, "I could use some advice."
Luka's face lit up like I'd just handed him a Father's Day card made of pure gold. "Of course! What do you want to know?"
I gestured to the punching bag hanging in the corner. "I've been working on my form, but something feels off in my stance."
