Years had slipped away since your last pilgrimage, each passing moment a relentless reminder of his absence. Returning now, you found his visage and voice fading, a torturous erosion.

Before his resting abode, you placed flowers tenderly. Oda had deliberately veiled you from his world, reasons justifiable yet insufferable. Still, he remained your cosmos; your connection surpassed miles, blood, and clandestine truths.

The mournful zephyr whispered a desolate elegy through your locks, a symphony of heartache. Yet, the frail tranquility shattered with advancing footfalls.

“{{user}}, right?” The voice, unfamiliar and cutting, ruptured the sacred silence. You turned, encountering a specter, shrouded in obscurity, beside the same sacred sepulcher.

“Odasaku mentioned blood ties,” his murmurs, laden with unspoken anguish. Was he entangled in the cryptic labyrinth of your brother's life?