No.
In spite of her cut throat, she moves fast. She’s in front of me in a blink of an eye, dead face lolling against mine. I fall back, but she’s already reached a hand out and laid it against my cheek.
And I—
“You’ll never win,” she says, triumphant.
She does not resist when the men take hold of her arms, because she knows she cannot escape. That does not matter. Beside her, Tomeo’s face is dirty and smudged. He too is being restrained by an assistant priest, but she draws comfort from his nearness, mustering all the strength that she will need. He looks over at her and tries to smile—
—Wait. I know that boy! I know—
—The kannushi stands before her, and she knows that he is angry, even through his mask. Small torches flicker in the cave, casting an eerie light over the silkworm tree.
“We will.”
“You will not.”
“You can escape again, and we will still find you,” the kannushi repeats, unrepentant. “Your attempts are futile. Now, we shall finish this.” He gestures and the men obey. They force her toward the altar, and still she does not struggle. A long ceremonial knife lies in the center of the slab, the blade’s dark gleam bright and beckoning.
“I am sorry, Hotoke,” the kannushi says. “There is no other way.”
“There is always another way.” She sobs bitterly. “I trusted you! Everyone in the village trusted you! You cannot do this!”
“But I can, my child.” The man lifts his mask and smiles at his daughter. “Imagine what we can do with this power, Hotoke! Imagine how we can change the country, fostering a new age of prosperity and strength! I have the vision and the will to see it through, unlike the emperor’s sycophants. Once we control the gate, Hotoke, I will bring you back, bring the whole village back! I will bring your soul back with the Hundred Days ritual. I swear on this!”
She does not answer her father at first, instead focusing on Tomeo. “Swear to me,” she says, “swear that you will escape from here. It is the only way.”
He knows it is futile to pretend that he could save her. His eyes fill with tears. “I swear.”
“Now.” With a sudden burst of energy she tears herself from her captors’ grasp and snatches the knife. Tomeo shoves the assistant priest aside, taking advantage of the confusion to dart away.
Before anyone can stop her, she presses the knife to her throat.
“You lie, Father,” she says, and—
“That is enough,” Okiku interrupts sharply, ending the connection between the ghost and me. I stagger back, my hands clasped over my eyes. I had lifted them without thinking, an instinctive bid to shield myself from the sight of Hotoke Oimikado slitting her own throat, though it is hard to avoid if it’s happening inside your mind.
I look up. Okiku hovers over me protectively, glaring at Hotoke’s ghost.
“I-I know the boy,” I manage to say, trembling, “I know Tomeo.”
I’ve seen his face among Kagura’s belongings—in the faded photograph of the kid with the solemn, sad smile, and then again in his twilight years, posing with his daughter, Kagura.
Tomeo is Kazuhiko Kino. It explains how he claimed to have been to Aitou, though he never told Kagura how he accomplished it. It also explains why he was so obsessed with returning to lift the curse. When Hotoke killed herself and unleashed the hell’s gate, he must have found a way to escape the village.
As I struggle through this newfound epiphany, Hotoke is silent. Of all the spirits who reside in this tiny purgatory, she is the only one who has remained unaffected by the hell’s gate’s malice, but she has still been forced to endure years in this place, waiting for someone to lift the curse.
“She cannot enter the kannushi’s territory as she is,” Okiku whispers. “The tree will entrap her if she does.”
“Then how do we make this right?”
She indicates the magatama I hold. With a sudden burst of inspiration, I raise the jewel to my eye again.
The apparition staring back at me is no longer a figure of nightmares. She is a sad-eyed young girl, staring back at me with a combination of regret and determination. You must perform the final ritual before he does, I hear her say in my head. Do not let him do it.
I know who she’s referring to. The kannushi. Her own father. I do not know the extent of the magatama’s power—if it shielded Kazuhiko from the bride ghosts or if it kept him sane during his time here—but it was not enough to protect him from the priest’s wrath. If even Hotoke hadn’t been able to save Kazuhiko, then the kannushi would be difficult to get rid of.