[ Senpai be nice he is just a litle creacher!! Unfortunately, all thought about writing is out the window at the thought of real, actual detectives, something that Tamamori almost has never considered as being, like, real? Of course they must exist, but also he's never seen one- there hadn't been any law enforcement worth their weight in rice back in Aizu (for...various reasons) and the Capital was too torn between corruption and the militarism looming on the horizon. So, for just a single blissful moment, Tama lets himself imagine that actual detectives must also imply good, and that Matoba knowing 'a detective or two' might imply Tama could meet them!

Of course, the awed illusion comes crashing back down to reality when he instead pans his eyes out across the yokai at work, expression going from delighted to dry like a fish left on land. ] I'm not very suited to cleaning... [ He'd made that apparent to every lost soul and kami in hell already, he likes to think. ] ...but a cash register is a cash register, I imagine. [ He looks back up at Matoba, a little suspicious. ] You've been here for longer as a 'lost soul'- did you have to do this kind of thing too?