"I'm telling you, it's haunted!"

Clicking his tongue, a yakuza type in a white suit, his head shaved, balked, "You're nuts."

A shorter, elderly man with small spectacles and a belly sash insisted, "Really!"

Sifting through the cobwebs in the restaurant attic with an extended switchblade, a younger man in a black suit with a gold tie over a white and blue striped shirt, tattoos peeking out of his cuffs, shaking his head, stating, "Nothing yet."

"Well of course he's not going to find anything, it's a ghost!"

"Then how do you know there's a ghost, shit for brains?" yelled the white suited thug.

"He doesn't", whispered a scruffy, unshaven man with a black suit and white tie, emblazoned with a spider over a red shirt. Said man also lacked a lower torso, a wisp floating over to the younger yakuza thug's pocket, his presence not being acknowledged by the white suited yakuza thug or the old man.

Running a hand down his slicked back dark hair, a small streak of gray running through, Yamaguchi Itsurou muttered, "I figured that out myself." Staring, the old man looked around, but the other thug just shrugged, a bit used to it

Using the butt of his knife to adjust his frame-less sunglasses, Itsurou confirmed, "There's nothing spiritual here."

Disgruntled, the old man stomped his foot on the ground thrice, crying through his tantrum, "Why should I believe you!? You just want your stupid protection money!"

The shaved thug, insisted, "We've gone along with your game, so shut up and pay!"

"He can't, obviou-" Itsurou began, before he was interuppted by the faint sound of a cruel cackle. Turning, Itsurou saw as the curtain over the lone window in the attic rustled, though all openings in the room were sealed.

The scruffy spirit, Rong Lu-Shun, burst into laughter. "What the hell was that!? Who is that supposed to fool!? Ahahahaha!"

Shuddering, the old man muttered, "I told you..."

Stepping over to the window, Itsurou raised his hand to the curtain, before whipping it over to a nearby box, ripping it open and turning over, a silent hairdryer, clearly modified, fell out, clattering against the attic floor. Stooping down, Itsurou gently followed the cord, before reaching an opening in the floor. Yanking it suddenly, he heard a faint cry  of surprise from below. Itsurou stood, scoffing, "What, no mist makers or spooky decorations? I'll bet your little tantrum there was a signal to your cute granddaughter to star something. Bet there's a stereo with a tape of recorded laughter too."

Reaching a hand out, the white suited thug grabbed the old man by the collar, slamming into the wall, snarling, "You're trying to fuck with us!? I'll have her sold overseas!"

As the old man gasped in horror, Itsurou sighed, "Nah, not yet." Snapping up an old looking mirror from the top of one box, Itsurou said, "Just grab something you like and give him an extension."

"Th-that was my mother's! It's goes back to the Sengoku Dynasty!"

"Nah, you're full of shit," Itsurou said, waving his finger, Rong floating over and swoocing into the Memorial Tablet in his suit pocket. "Saburou, hurry and grab something, I'm hungry."

Saburou snarled, "Excuse me!? I'm your superior! Don't you call me...fine!" Looking through one of the boxes, he stomped a smaller one into the ground, snorting, "Weirdo."

One he'd collected something (and smashed another box or two), Itsurou made to follow him out, warning the old man, "You have three days."

Bowing bitterly, he muttered, "Y-yes sir..."

Stepping through the nearly vacant restaurant, Itsurou and Saburou stepped onto the streets of Tokyo. Itsurou sighed, "Well, that was a waste of time. Usually is. You gonna come with me or what?"

"So you can bum cash off me? Forget it. I've got some important work to do instead of this joke." Snorting, Saburou shuffled off, clearly muttering, "'Yakuza Shaman' my ass..."

Going his own way, Itsurou mumbled, "Ain't exactly glorious work..."