Not that she minded this bombardment of questions. For her, this was a welcome break from the perpetual silence and isolation of the mountains. In return, she offered questions of her own regarding his perceptions of village life, its relationships, and its complications. And when her supply of questions ran dry, she offered to recite poetry and songs that she had learned while watching various travelers. Akira, coincidently, consented to her doing so without objection.
By dawn, Akira had come to the realization that he had fallen in love with the Snow Woman and became determined to make her his wife. When he shared these thoughts with the Snow Woman she asked with all due seriousness, “You do realize that I’m three years your senior? And,” she added before he could interject, “that it will be another three years before you’re deemed fit for marriage?”
Smiling in a way that revealed his confidence concerning the matter, Akira said, “Yes, I most certainly do. The real question, however, is are you okay with this?”
Quietly, the Snow Woman agreed, but reminded him that there were strict rules regarding relations between humans and the supernatural. When Akira acknowledged this fact, the Snow Woman related to him her strict conditions:
“For the next three years after you return home to the village, you are not to tell anyone of my existence, nor will you share your experience here. If they surmise that a yuki-onna spirited you away, so be it, just so long as you do not confirm or reject their suspicions. In the meantime, you shall make no attempt to see me again until after the three years are over. If you become engaged to another woman during this time due to obligation, you need only say the word and no harm shall come to you or your brethren. However, should this occur willingly, then the fate you escaped from the other day will be enacted upon you and all those within proximity to you at that time.
“Do I make myself clear?” she ended void of emotion. After mentioning that he did, the Snow Woman nodded her confirmation, but if it meant that she was confident that he would succeed or not, Akira could not tell. Gesturing toward the door, she told him, “The blizzard that swept through the land has officially run its course. You shouldn’t have any trouble returning to the village now.”
With that, Akira packed his belongings and started on his way home. Just before he was out of sight of the hut, Akira turned around to catch one last glimpse of the Snow Woman. To his dismay, he found himself utterly alone. Sighing, he stated absently to himself, “See you in three years, then,” and then continued on his journey home.
There was much rejoicing at the village upon his return, so much in fact that the town decided to throw a party celebrating it. But even before the first preparations were conceived there was plenty of speculation regarding what happened to the young man. Some believed that his disappearance was the work of fearsome tengu who were displeased with the encroachment of their territory. Others assumed that Akira’s absence was the workings of hideous oni trying to perform a little mischief. However, there was one of their numbers, a shrewd priest by the name of Jiro, who accurately guessed that Akira’s absence was tied to a yuki-onna.
When pressured to recount what had happened, Akira shrugged, “I’m afraid that I don’t know much more than you do. All I remember is falling down a cliff, surviving it, and then struggling for survival before I finally made my way back.” Being careful about consistency, Akira managed to convince the villagers of his far-fetched tale to the point to where the people dismissed it as “just one of those things.” Priest Jiro, on the other hand, was not convinced and was determined to discover the truth behind the lie.
