"Close?" His expression flickers briefly, as he considers how to answer. Honesty, actually, is no worse than any lie would be. "Those men you saw are my father's cousins. We are kin. But at the time, they would have rather destroyed their beloved cousin's progeny rather than let him have even a scrap of a name for himself."

There is way, way more to it than that, but it'll take a few minutes to find a way to drag it out of him. Instead, he focuses to listening, paying very close attention, understanding just how akin he and the lovely lady might be when you get right down to it. Or, well, how alike to some of his favorite retainers she might be. He looks down at the stone as it's placed in his palm, and a moment later staggers with the immensity of it. That beast is easily as large as the eight-headed serpent which ended his own life, and speaks with the eerie certainty and defiance of Orochi himself. "I...I see," he stammers after a moment. "So you know full well how it is. Placing yourself at the fore, standing where others fall, doing what must be done."

His death and hers are a mirror, moreso than that fleeting glimpse of his effort to secure forces prior to betraying Orochi. Cao Pi is incredibly humbled that she should share this with him, and bows in a full kowtow, fist over heart, before enfolding the stone back into her hand to keep. No one should hold that memory except Lunafreya herself.