Without answering, the Snow Woman moved towards the kitchen area and opened one of the boxes to reveal a set of matching chopsticks to go along with the plain bowls Akira found earlier. Scooping up some rice that was cooking over the stove into it, she passed the meager dish over to Akira and bade him to sit wherever he pleased. Before he had a chance to ask his question again, she returned to the kitchen to secure the same meal for herself. When she had done so, the Snow woman chose to consume her meal by the door with her back leaning against its post as she sat down, preventing any chance of escape.
Following suite, Akira took a seat between her and the fireplace to keep warm. During their meal, Akira once more tired to engage in conversation with the mysterious woman, but to no avail. Instead, he was forced to retain his silence until the food was properly consumed. Only after that was the Snow Woman willing to speak again.
“The reason why I asked you about how you were feeling earlier was because, not long after I took you here, you had come down with a terrible fever. I’m relieved to see that you are no longer sick.”
With that, any lingering hesitations concerning this woman evaporated in Akira’s mind. Was she really the malevolent demon that froze poor souls to death on a whim? Feeling considerably bolder than ever before, Akira asked, “Why are you helping me?” The Snow Woman’s only response was silence. Undeterred Akira continued, “You didn’t have to save me, let alone treat me as a guest in your own house.”
“This isn’t my house,” stated the woman matter-of-factly.
Surprised, he inquired, “If this isn’t yours, then whose is it?”
“Do you see that shrine over there?” Looking at the area once more, Akira confirmed that he did. “Every now and then, monks and priests come by to make a pilgrimage to a holy site not too far away from here. This hut is where they rest for the night along their journey, and that miniature over there is their marker of peace and welcome for the other travelers who come here. To reassure them that they’re on the right track,” she added.
Akira did not need to hear the last part to accept her explanation. For generations, his village had become accustomed to seeing many clergy and other pious folk on pilgrimage pass through. “But that doesn’t answer my previous question, and it definitely doesn’t explain the kimono hanging there.”
The Snow Woman closed her eyes for a few moments, contemplating her next words carefully. When she opened them again, she locked her icy gaze on him and asked slowly, “Why are you so eager to learn about me?”
Akira shuddered at this phenomenon. Reacting on cultural instinct, his mind immediately assumed that he was in mortal peril for being so bold with the Snow Woman. But in that moment he also recalled his earlier optimism towards her character, so he put aside his fears and responded earnestly, “Because I want to know the truth about who you are.”
For the first time, he saw a faint smile blossom on her lips that reminded him of flowers still alive after a frost had smothered them. It was no surprise then that what had begun as a short inquiry into character quickly turned into a night full of insights into each other’s lives. Specifically, Akira was not content just to learn that the kimono hanging on the wall was to be her bridal gown one day, nor that her reason for aiding him in the first place was crafted from unrestricted curiosity; he wanted to know the “why’s” behind her actions, the myths regarding her and her kind, and, as the night drew on, more about her.
