If it weren't for the strange sensation Tezuka had felt last night then he wouldn't have worried about it. The strange humming on his skin, the lingering by his bed, he felt it all although he pretended that he hadn't. If there is one thing that is certain, it is that Tezuka Kunimitsu does not believe in ghost.

Nor does he believe in the demons, sprites, the gods or the split-mouthed woman. He understands why people believe all those supernatural or paranormal things. Either its culturally transcribed or religiously implanted, a comfort or a crutch. In other cases, its the easily frightened or gullible who believe in those sorts of things. Not people like Tezuka. So when his coach told him to beware because he was going to be held up in the most haunted hotel in Germany*, he was only slightly amused.

His coach thought it would be a good place to recuperate for a local tournament that he wanted Tezuka to participate in. Participate isn't the right word considering it was a tournament for early elementary students. Despite being Japanese, he was beginning to have name-recognition with the German people. Especially after he was featured on a local sports channel. It was supposed to be a small promotional for a real upcoming tournament he was entering at the time. Strangely enough he became popular with the children watching the channel during the kids hour.

Tezuka was ashamed to posing with Elard the Dormouse on a commercial or two for the channel. Internally he had hoped that no one back in Japan would happen to witness such an embarrassment. Especially since he had to perform skits for the short twenty second commercials between the tennis centered cartoons. The skits usually contained horrendous tennis puns that even after Tezuka's extensive knowledge of the German language, could not decipher. It was only after he had asked his coach about the skit- a skit that the coach found quite humorous- did he realize the extent of the uninspired corporate pandering humor that was being used. And to think that he starred, along with Elard the dormouse- in such a thing. For thousands to see...

So when his coach warned him that he was entering the most haunted (more or less) hotel in all of Germany, he was hardly alarmed. Some imaginary ghost was the least of his worries. What he had to worry about was the hundreds of times that commercial has aired in front of the thousands of eyes watching. The sing-along was bad enough but the rap battle? It was too much for him!

As Tezuka laid in his bed tossing a tennis ball in the air, he couldn't stop contemplating the oncoming humiliation of the upcoming kids tournament he was suppose to make an appearance in. To give a speech in front of the entire arena about friendship and endless effort-concepts he was a strong believer in- but then he is to be stopped by that walking rodent Elard who confronts him, saying that he is the ambassador of friendship. The two will then argue lines like: Only I know the depths of friendship! And It burns in my heart.

Tezuka cringed at the thought of it. If he had known that a simple promotional commercial would spiral into karaoke-cause you know, he's Japanese- and a straight-to-DVD release, then he would never have agreed. Unbeknownst to the German people, Tezuka Kunimitsu is not the fun-loving-goofy-Japanese that can swing a racket like he's been portrayed to be.

The real Tezuka is more somber than that. He enjoys reading and intentional silence. He doesn't need all the extra attention. In his hotel room, he couldn't take it anymore. He needed air. There was a tennis court nearby that he saw on the drive there. He hasn't explored that many areas in the new city and he wasn't looking to become lost. The court was only a block or so away so he wasn't in any imminent danger. He gave the ball one last toss into the air and caught the sight of the ball momentarily pausing in its stride.

He gasped and sat up immediately. He knew that he had quick reflexes from his training but he was unaware of how quickly he could shuffle into the pillows and headboard. The ball dropped back onto the bed from its momentary freezing and bounced off. Even after it rolled to a still, Tezuka was too fearful to touch it. He studied his hand, wondering what just happened. For a moment he wondered if he had imagined it.

He even examined his glasses and cleaned them. As he rose from his bed, he was cautious about tip-toeing around the ball. He sighed. In the bathroom he dressed for his leaving. It was in the late afternoon, the sky was stretching into a dark crimson orange. It would soon be blending into a twilight. The street lights had already turned on and he knew that there would be enough light to see his way.

He focused on his jacket as he tried it on. It was a dark black with a leather finish. It wasn't exactly his style but the coach insisted on it. He looked himself in the mirror and glanced over his hair. Something he never concerns himself with. The hotel was a nice one. Large bed, silk curtains, Persian carpets and a bathroom with deep tub and three sinks despite being a singles room.

As he ran the zipper up along the path to his neck, he came to notice that his hand was trembling. He had exhale deeply and looked himself in the mirror before leaving. The air in the room had changed. He wondered if it was he had become strange for even contemplating what had just happened as anything but an illusion, a trick of the light.

The walk there wasn't that difficult. A straight and narrow road led to a simple clay court. He was curious as he's only played on hardcourts and the occasional grass court. He stamped his foot onto the court just to feel it. It was too bad that he wouldn't be playing on it. There was no one around to practice with or to pick up balls. He only had two on him. He needed a stone wall to go against.

Despite being within a blocks distance from the five-star hotel. This park-if it could be called a park- was surprisingly dirty. Litter coated the base of the trashcan, the metal benches were stained and rusted, even the net was in poor condition with holes and tears.

He paced through the park. There was only a court with a few benches. That was all. However, there was a concrete wall as a part of the back of a building that was beside the court. Under a street light positions beside the building, he began practicing.

Tennis always had a way of clearing his mind. Although, as he felt the fuzzy material of the ball, the stiffness of the ball in his room came to mind. The way it just froze. Just stopping all momentum as if someone had caught it and then just dropped it again.

He released the ball from his grip for only a second before banishing the thought with the swing of a racket.