The next morning, Yohyo sold the cloth at the market for a great sum of money. Excited, he spent it all and returned home to ask Otsu to weave more. His greed grew, blinding him to Otsu's increasing thinness. Out of love, she wove for him each time.
One day, Yohyo asked again. Otsu agreed but reminded him of his promise not to look into the other room while she worked. Yohyo promised but soon grew impatient. Hearing the sound of weaving, his curiosity overcame him. "She won't be angry if I look just for a moment," he thought.
Finally, he crept to the doorway and peered in. Otsu was gone. Instead, a thin crane was plucking its feathers and weaving them into the cloth. Yohyo recognized it as the crane he had saved months before.
He crept back, anxious about the consequences of knowing her secret. When the weaving stopped, Otsu emerged with two pieces of cloth.
"Yohyo," she said sadly, "you broke your promise. Now that you know I am a crane, I must leave. Sell one cloth and keep the other to remember me."
"Please don't go!" Yohyo cried. "I love you! How can I live without you?"
Otsu shook her head gently. "I came to repay your kindness and stayed for your gentle heart. But weaving for you has changed you; you've become greedy and hard. I must go."
As Yohyo pleaded desperately, Otsu gave a sad smile, stepped outside, and transformed into a crane. Spreading her beautiful wings, she flew into the sky. Yohyo watched in despair as she vanished from sight, leaving only the echo of his calls: "Otsu! Otsu!…"