The Buddha stood at the edge of the lotus pond in the Sukhavati and watched this part of the process fixedly, but when Katsuhiko eventually sank like a stone to the bottom of the pool of blood, he wandered off again with a sad look on his face. Perhaps the Buddha thought it was wretched that his ruthless mind, which was only trying to escape from hell by itself, was punished appropriately and fell into the hell from where he had been.
However, the lotus in the pond of Sukhavati does not care about such things in the least. Its jewel-like white flowers wobble around the Buddha's feet their calyxes, and the golden stamens in the center of the flowers emit an indescribably delicious smell. It must have been close to noon in the Sukhavati.
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