“Jiro-sama…” Yuri was a rather pretty woman who was fair of complexion and was the most skilled woman in the village with a needle and thread. She was also Akira’s childhood friend, and even to the present day they were inseparable and spent much time together. This, unfortunately, led many in the village to presume that an eventual match was to be made between them. Despite these rumors, Akira did his best to avoid giving Yuri any false hopes of a marriage with him.
“Don’t use that tone with me young man. This is a natural part of life, one that I pray you’re taking seriously.”
“That I am Jiro-sama,” started Akira slightly nervous, “I’m just—I just—”
Once again, just before Akira was close to betraying his mission, Priest Jiro cut in saying, “Don’t worry, Akira-san. You’ll know who’ll be your wife when you see her.”
After their conversation was done, Priest Jiro and Akira went their separate ways to resume their daily tasks. Just before they were out of sight of each other, however, Priest Jiro called out to Akira to remind him of this earlier demand. It was at that point that Akira realized that the kind old man was purposefully fishing for information; that the whole talk of marriage was a means to usurp his chances of ever seeing his precious Snow Woman again by throwing him off balance. Even worse still, the point of even guiding Akira out there in the first place was to implant a seed of doubt into his heart concerning this same woman.
Unfortunately for Akria, Priest Jiro was successful in that last endeavor. For the rest of the day, Akira began to question the motives of the Snow Woman. Was she at all what he remembered? Was she really the terror that the village and its pious priest believed she was? His heart told him to ignore these questions, but with Priest Jiro’s demand coupled with the disappearance of the three kinsmen, his mind remained in a state of chaos.
By the following morning, Akira was determined to put the matter to rest. Packing his things, he informed his family of his intentions to journey to the coal mines on the other side of the mountains for supplies.
“But Akira,” protested his father, “isn’t it a little early for that? We have enough kindle to last another month.”
Chiming in with her husband, Akira’s mother added, “And besides, with the weather being as it is, don’t you think this journey is too dangerous right now?”
“And that’s precisely why I must go. There’s no telling if the next snow storm will be worse than the last or not, and I’d rather not take the chance of the pass being completely cut off for the rest of the season.” Seeing the logic behind this, his parents relented, granted him their blessing, and sent him off.
Using the same trail that nearly became his grave three years ago, Akira fulfilled the task prescribed in his cover story without any problems. About three-quarters of the way back to the village, Akira stashed the brunt of his load in a hidden space behind three twisting trees and doubled back to try and locate the hut the Snow Woman had borrowed the last time he saw her. It took some time, but after about an hour of searching he finally came upon the hut. Elated at his discovery, Akira unleashed a shout for joy and started running towards his destination. As he came closer he noticed that there was an almost invisible line of smoke coming out of the chimney; a happy sign that life was contained within its walls.
Just as he was about to come within an arm’s length to the door, Akira heard a familiar voice behind him ask, “Is this the layer of the yuki-onna?” Stopping dead in his tracks, Akira quickly jerked himself around to behold the figure of Priest Jiro, complete with the necessary equipment to combat the supernatural and an eerie sense of determination about him.
