Aside from that detail, the next three years of his life passed by with relative bliss. In that time, Akira had mastered the ways of metal working from his father and had learned to play the flute from his mother. He had also turned into a strong, handsome man and was admired from afar by the local maidens. Although he appreciated their compliments, the one woman that forever remained supreme in his mind was the maiden of ice and snow, whose grace and eloquence far surpassed the women of the village, and whose kindness and wisdom was even better still. Any day now, he knew that he would see this majestic creature again and that he would finally fulfill his promise to marry her.
Before he got the chance to do so though, a terrible blizzard, stronger than the one three winters ago, swept through the valley and lingered there for an entire day. It took the village a week to unearth itself and the main road from this monstrosity, and suspicion ran higher than ever before.
The morning after things had calmed down Priest Jiro approached Akira and asked, “Akira-san, would you walk with me for a moment?” Obeying his simple request, Akira retired from the forge and followed Priest Jiro to the outskirts of town.
Extending his arm, Priest Jiro said solemnly, “Look at this…not too long ago this valley was a picture of beauty. But now…” Akira acknowledged that nothing more needed to be said about the carnage that surrounded them. What were once beautiful and steadfast pines were now distorted shadows of their former glory; twisted and disfigured like corpses left on a battlefield to rot. The snow that covered the ground seemed to be indifferent to this tragedy, for it completely ignored the spectacle and vainly painted a picture of peace and tranquility.
“Akira-san, you know the reason why I brought you out here, don’t you?” Akira was expecting something like this. It was the misfortune of three unsuspecting locals to set out on a pilgrimage just a few hours before the blizzard came in. The chances of them surviving the onslaught were slim, and there was already speculation in the village that this event was crafted by malevolent spirits.
Feigning ignorance for the sake of his love, Akira asked, “I’m afraid not, Jiro-sama. Why did you bring me out here?”
Sighing heavily, Priest Jiro responded, “For three years, Akira-san, I’ve been lenient with you for the sake of your father, who’s been kind to the temple these many years by providing free labor to us. But,” he started with frustration clear in his voice, “my patience with you is growing thin. I know of your connection to the yuki-onna who haunts these mountains, and I demand that you bring her down to the village to serve justice for what she’s done.”
Akira was furious with Priest Jiro for accusing the Snow Woman for this disaster without any proof. For a few seconds, Akira forgot his promise and was about to scold the old man before Priest Jiro interjected in a drastically different tone, “Ah yes, before I forget: Have you thought of settling down yet?”
Not that Akira was not grateful for the priest’s involuntary and rather abrupt rescue from disaster, but now he was stuck with the question the whole village had wanted to know for years. These same inquires had intensified in recent months, and Akira still was not quite certain how to respond, especially to his anxious parents. So far, silence and evasion seemed to be sufficient enough for those concerned, but that was back in the harvest months. Stuck in the middle of winter with barely anything to do, there was no escape.
“I hear Yuri-chan has taken a special interest in you,” stated Priest Jiro with a hint of humor in his tone.