Fujiwara Reya knew them.
The old monk was the head of Asakusa Temple, possessing high spiritual power and esteemed status, ranking among the top three in the influence on Buddhist doctrines across Japan.
The young monk was his disciple.
The two were here to perform soul salvation for the spirits.
Generally speaking, after a person dies, their spirit is detained and taken back to Yomi Country by the black and white messengers.
But if the person died unjustly, their spirit would carry a vengeful power, allowing them to evade the black and white messengers and continue wandering the human world.
Spirits lack intelligence and the ability to harm humans.
However, if left unchecked, they can absorb the vengeful power required by frightening people, slowly turning into ghosts with some level of harm; as they amass more vengeful power, the ghosts can transform into more violent, powerful, vengeance-obsessed vengeful spirits.
To prevent the birth of vengeful spirits, most murder scene investigations often feature the presence of a priest or monk conducting rites.
Fujiwara Reya couldn't perform rituals.
So he held great respect for the priests and monks who could.
"Greetings, Master Koubun," Fujiwara Reya said, clasping his hands together and bowing to the old monk.
The respectful term for religious personnel: for younger or lower-ranked ones, "Mage" is used; for older or higher-ranked ones, "Master" is used.
"Greetings, Mr. Fujiwara."
Koubun Monk returned the greeting politely.
He dared not be impolite...
As neighbors for decades, he was acutely aware of the past of Asakusa Shrine, and if this child happened to be a descendant of that shamaness, even all the hundred monks in Asakusa Temple combined wouldn't be a match for a single hand.
Exchanging pleasantries with Fujiwara Reya, the old monk removed his prayer beads, clasped his hands together, and began to softly chant the Rebirth Mantra. The young monk quickly followed, drumming the wooden fish in his hand.
The chanting, imbued with Buddhist Law, caused a subtle oscillation in the air within the tent, beyond the perception of ordinary people.
Two figures slowly materialized.
A man and a woman, two spirits floating in the air, retaining their appearance before death, looking bewildered.
The man, dressed in flamboyant attire, glanced around as if searching for the way home, while his waving hands seemed to be looking for something to help steady himself; the woman, dressed provocatively with heavy makeup, looked as if she had nowhere to go, crouching down and hugging her legs, like unclaimed baggage on an airport carousel.
Looking at the two spirits, Fujiwara Reya sighed compassionately and turned to Inspector Suzuki. "Have their identities been found out?"
"Well, DNA matching has been done," Inspector Suzuki said, picking up a tablet from the temporary desk beside him. "The man's name is Kitahara Takashi, and his family owns a construction company. A wealthy young master. The woman is Hasegawa Sae, an orphan with no relatives."
He then showed Fujiwara Reya the citizen register information on the tablet.
The photo of Hasegawa Sae, appearing around seventeen or eighteen years old, with clear and innocent eyes, made it hard to associate her with the heavily made-up spirit in front of them.
Fujiwara Reya looked up at Hasegawa Sae's spirit.
Even in death, having lost all consciousness, she still deeply remembered her reality of having nowhere to go, which was pitiful upon reflection.
The Rebirth Mantra was completed.
The old monk opened his eyes, reached out, and gently touched Hasegawa Sae's forehead.
"Rest in peace."
A soft glow blossomed from the old monk's fingertips. In that warm light, Hasegawa Sae's spirit showed a relieved smile, gradually dissolving into white specks and drifting away.
Infected by her smile, Fujiwara Reya also smiled, bowed slightly to the old monk, and said, "Master Koubun, your benevolence is immeasurable."
This phenomenon is called "attaining Buddhahood."
Purifying the vengeful power of spirits, allowing them to let go of their obsessions and recall their happiest times in life, thus finding liberation and departing in peace.
Every wronged spirit has a tragic story, and such soul salvation serves as a form of compensation and comfort for them.
Unfortunately, Fujiwara Reya couldn't achieve this.
His method of soul salvation was a relatively efficient and straightforward one.
"May you also rest easy on your journey. Do not linger in the mortal world," the old monk chanted the Rebirth Mantra, approaching Kitahara Takashi's spirit, who was lingering at the tent entrance, trying to find a way home.
Just then, a heart-wrenching cry sounded from outside.
"My son—"
The tent's curtain was suddenly flung open, and a man around fifty stumbled inside.
Kitahara Takashi, who had been lingering at the entrance, hadn't even had time to recall his happiest moments alive before his spirit was shattered by his old father's interruption.
The old monk hastily clasped his hands, lowered his head, and murmured, "Scattered by his father, surely he departed with a smile, Amitabha..."
"Officer," Mr. Kitahara rushed to Inspector Suzuki, his eyes red and choking with sobs, "Where is my son? Can you let me see him?"
"Uh, well..." Inspector Suzuki looked at him sympathetically, pointing to the old monk next to him, "Please ask Master for that; I'm not familiar with such matters."
"Master—"
Mr. Kitahara turned, grasping the old monk's hands. "Where is my son...?"
"Uh..."
The old monk was momentarily at a loss for words.
"Sir," seeing his master's predicament, the young monk cleverly chimed in, "your son was just scattered by you..."
The old monk abruptly cut him off, "Wuchen, cease your nonsense!"
"Master?" The young monk's head was filled with a huge question mark.
"Come here, let me tell you," the old monk leaned towards the young monk's ear and whispered, "This gentleman is in deep grief right now. We should not further agitate him, understand?"
"Yes, yes." The young monk nodded, somewhat grasping the concept.
"We need to phrase it more delicately," the old monk continued his teaching, "As monks, we should be compassionate. We must try to minimize the pain for the deceased's family, allowing them to accept the truth with a tranquil heart."
"Understood."
The young monk responded to his master's teaching.
Observing the deeply grieving Mr. Kitahara, his mind quickly spun, and his gaze caught the meat scraps on the ground.
Not letting Mr. Kitahara know that his son's spirit had been scattered by himself, he thought perhaps by reminding him of the fact that his son had already been killed by the vengeful spirit, he would be more calmly accepting?
I'm really clever!
Praising himself quietly, the young monk clasped his hands together and bowed as he said, "Mr. Kitahara, your son is right under your feet."
"...?"
Mr. Kitahara looked down at the scattered debris on the ground.
My huge son...
Is it just reduced to this much?
Instantly.
Mr. Kitahara felt dizzy, his vision darkened, and he collapsed feebly to the ground.
"Careful," Fujiwara Reya quickly responded, leaping forward to catch Mr. Kitahara.
Meanwhile, the young monk, with his rosy-cheeked innocence, turned to his master, sporting a look begging for praise.
The old monk's face darkened.
"Uh... well, we'll be heading back now," he maintained his composed demeanor as a virtuous monk, smiling as he addressed Fujiwara Reya, "I'll rely on you for the rest, Mr. Fujiwara. Should you need anything, feel free to visit us at Asakusa Temple."
With that said.
Before Fujiwara Reya could respond.
The old monk grabbed the young monk and hurriedly made his exit.
To those unaware, it might have seemed like there was a fire at Asakusa Temple, and they were rushing back to extinguish it.
Fujiwara Reya silently prayed for the young monk, hoping Asakusa Temple didn't employ disciplinary measures... He handed Mr. Kitahara over to the doctors outside the tent and turned to discuss the case with Inspector Suzuki.