I'm glad everyone is enjoying this. I thought it was kind of a weird idea, but I liked it too much not to write it.

X: The Man Who Can't Be Moved :X

The nameless boy and his sign—'If you see this girl, can you tell her where I am?'—sat on the corner with the old man during the day. Then, at night, he returned to the teacups in the hidden amusement park and slept there, curled up in one of the gondola-style baskets of the Ferris wheel. It offered shelter from the weather, but wasn't warm or comfortable. The old man had offered to let him come to the subway system where a group of homeless people huddled together for warmth, but the boy declined. Something inside insisted he remained near that amusement park.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed since he had come to his senses in that alleyway with nothing in his mind. He knew his clothes were getting dirtier and dirtier, his skin darkening, his hair greasy, and he was losing weight. His clothes were positively hanging off his body. All that mattered was finding the girl and remembering something about his past, his present, his future. He would settle for learning his own name.

The old man guided him a little bit, teaching him. He showed the boy places to wash his clothes in sprinklers and a gas station that had a shower where if he was careful, he could bathe. He taught him to beg and where to scavenge for food, what places threw out their leftovers and where there were barking dogs and people with guns. He showed him warm places to sleep even though the boy always slept at the amusement park. The old man taught him to survive as best he could and the boy followed his instructions, but he didn't particularly care.

He needed to find the girl in the photograph.

He needed to remember something—anything!

The amusement park and the corner he shared with the old man where he and his sign searched for the girl in the photograph. From those two places, the nameless boy would not leave—not until he learned or remembered. He needed those places and no one would take them away from him. From those places, he would not move—would not leave. Until he remembered, they were his home.

…

Hoshina née Tsukiyomi Utau was on the road with her manager and band, touring to find people who liked her music. Since she had left Easter, business had been hard. She was even trying her hand in America as a foreign beauty and it was beginning to go well, but each night she woke from violent nightmares that she couldn't remember. Something was wrong, but she didn't know what.

On one such dark night, she woke suddenly from a nightmare, panting and sweaty, her nightgown clinging to her back. Her skin was chilled and her heart was pounding. She had the sudden realization that she hadn't heard from Ikuto in a very long time. Her brother usually checked in with her once a month, but in at least three, she hadn't heard from him. Heedless of the time difference, she called Hinamori Amu, clutching her cell phone in a white-knuckled grip.

"Hello?" the younger girl answered deliriously.

"Amu, it's Utau," the young idol said.

"Utau," Amu groaned. "Do you know what time it is?"

"Either very early or very late," Utau said shortly. "Have you heard from my brother?"

Amu's voice cleared a little. "Ikuto? No, I haven't. Have you?"

"No," Utau said, her voice dropping with concern.

Silence stretched painfully amid the two girls as they each thought about the missing dark-haired boy between the two of them. If neither of them had heard from Ikuto, what had happened to him? Was he dead somewhere? Had Easter destroyed him? Was he just off wandering with his violin?

"Amu," Utau whispered.

"Yes?"

"If you hear from him, will you call me?" she asked.

"First thing," Amu promised.

"Thanks," Utau whispered and hung up.

In silence, she sat in her bed, hands fisted in the covers. After a moment, Utau lay down and buried her face in her pillows, trying not to cry. Ikuto was the only family she had left, if he was gone… where would she be without him? Utau started crying and the floodgates poured open. She easily cried herself to sleep, exhausted, and when she woke the next morning, she remembered her nightmares. They were all about Ikuto.

…

Then, one day, he came to the corner to sit with the old man, but the old man wasn't there. The corner was empty and deserted save people bustling through their busy lives. The boy sat down, his sign propped against his legs and her picture clutched in his hand. He stared at the people as they passed, meeting the eyes of those who looked at him—mostly young girls. He wondered what he looked like that drew their attention so.

Was he ugly?

Or was it something more?

Someone passed him and stopped a moment, staring at the photograph and sign he sat there with day in and day out. It was a young boy with pale hair and mahogany eyes, as if he was an albino, with a thin boyish body. He glanced at the nameless youth and then looked sharply away—his expression unreadable.

The nameless youth stared at the young boy desperately, but as he was about to turn away and leave, he whispered, "Please, do you know her?"

The boy shook his head, turned, and walked quickly away.

The nameless boy stared at the boy's retreating back and then looked down at the photograph of the beautiful girl, rubbing his thumb gingerly over her face. Who was she? Would she ever find him? Would he find her? What was going to happen? He adjusted the sign, reclining against the wall behind him, and sat there all day. As night fell, he gathered up his sign and returned to the broken-down amusement park that he considered his home.

Curled up in the gondola of the Ferris wheel, he slept peacefully if not completely alone.

The next morning, the nameless youth woke with a start to the sound of crashing machinery and things breaking. He jolted up and saw the rearing yellow monsters of bulldozers and cranes, dump trucks and a massive dumpster. They were going to tear down the amusement park! His first thought was of the teacups—why were that so precious to him?

He couldn't remember!

He lurched to his feet and ran towards the teacups, clutching only the sign and his photograph, waving his arms and shouting. The moment before the massive arm of the bulldozer crashed into the teacups, the driver saw him standing there—unmoving. And he wouldn't move either.

He would not be moved.

The bulldozer ground to a halt. "Move it, kid!" the operator shouted at him.

But the youth would not be moved.

Without sirens, a policeman pulled into a amusement park a few minutes later. The officer was tall and portly, with a round honest face and an easy smile. The youth was sitting in the teacup, his long legs sticking out, and his pale face downturned and sad. The officer came to sit beside him, leaning on the edge of the cup.

"Son?"

"I can't leave this place," the youth whispered.

"Why not?"

"I… I don't know," he whispered.

"You don't know?" the officer asked, his eyes widening.

"I don't remember anything," he confessed.

"Then, why are you here?"

"I don't know. I just… I found my way here and I need to be here," he whispered.

"Son, you can't stay here," the officer murmured.

The boy met the officer's eyes desperately. "Please," he choked out.

"Son—"

"Please!"

The officer sighed heavily. "Son, this place is scheduled for demolition and you're in the way."

"I need to stay here," he insisted.

The officer tried to grasp the boy's arm, but he yanked away, slouching deeper into the small teacup.

"I won't go," he insisted. "I can't leave this place. I have to stay here. I can't be moved."

"What's your name?"

"I don't know. I can't remember," he whispered.

"What?" he gasped.

"I can't remember… anything…"

"Where are your parents?" the officer asked.

The boy stared at him, uncomprehending. "Parents?"

"Yes. How old are you?"

"I don't know," he whispered. "I don't know. I don't know."

The officer stared at the boy, stunned. How could this kid not know his own age? How could he not know his parents? How twisted was this boy's life that the only thing he had left was a broken-down amusement park, a cardboard sign, and a crumpled photograph?

"You have to leave," the officer tried.

The boy shook his head. "No."

With a sigh, the officer went to the demolition crew. "Just," he began, "save the teacups for last. I don't know what's up with that boy, but he won't be moved."

"Can't you move him?" one of the men in hardhats asked.

The officer shook his head. "Only if I arrest him and I have nothing to arrest him for," he said. "Just… work around him as best you can, okay?" The officer turned to look at the young man, seated inside the small teacup with only a cardboard sign that read, 'If you see this girl, can you tell her where I am?' That was all the boy had—not even a name.

…

Hotori Tadase didn't know what to think of seeing his old enemy, Tsukiyomi Ikuto, in that state on the corner. It was clear that Ikuto was homeless. He was filthy, he was thin, he was sitting there with a cardboard sign and a picture of Amu, and that was all. He looked so pathetic, a shade of the thieving black cat Tadase was used to seeing. This Ikuto was nothing—he was a scarecrow in an empty field, ragged and worthless.

Tadase didn't know what to think since he was happy to have Ikuto out of the way and no longer competing for Amu's affection, but… he couldn't bear to see Ikuto in that state. Ikuto was his greatest enemy and now he was… he was nothing.

Maybe Tadase should tell Amu.

Amu and Ikuto had a strange and special relationship. Maybe, Amu could bring Ikuto back to the person he had been formally, but if he did that… Ikuto would be back in Amu's life again. Tadase was happy to have Amu all to himself without the threat of Ikuto stealing her away.

But maybe he should help Ikuto. They had been friends in the past after all—Ikuto had been someone he looked up to as an older brother, someone he idolized and even loved. Maybe, for that relationship, for the lost time between them, Tadase should help him now when he was in desperate need of it.

He should, but… would he?

It turns out that when girls are involved, men are worthless and shallow.

Tadase met Amu at the park where she was waiting for him with ice cream cones in vanilla and chocolate flavors and a wide smile. She gave the vanilla to Tadase, but he stared at the chocolate one, stricken, as she began to lick it. Chocolate was Ikuto's favorite flavor.

"Is something wrong?" Amu asked him.

"N-no," Tadase said and forced a smile. "Why?"

"No reason," she said. "You just seem distracted, is all."

"I'm fine," Tadase said and took a large lick of his ice cream.

Amu ate in silence, enjoying the warm afternoon and Tadase's company. She leaned back, her pale rose hair teasing her cheeks and her gold eyes bright. Tadase had just begun to relax and forget about Ikuto when she asked a question out of complete left field.

"Have you seen Ikuto lately?" Amu asked.

Tadase choked. "What?"

"Have you seen him? I haven't and Utau called me a while ago. She hasn't heard from him," Amu murmured. "It's like he fell off the face of the planet."

Tadase knew the truth. Ikuto was sitting on the corner, homeless and helpless, seeming to have forgotten everything in his past. He hadn't even recognized Tadase. All he had was that sign and the photograph of Amu. 'If you see this girl, can you tell her where I am?'

"I haven't seen him," Tadase said after a moment choking on his ice cream.

Amu patted him on the back. "You okay?"

He nodded. "Yeah," he said and then added again, "I haven't seen that cat."

"Oh," Amu remarked and let it go.

Tadase's heart felt hollow and sick. Was he really that shallow that he feared a little competition from Tsukiyomi Ikuto? Was he really that much of a coward? But the conversation passed and Tadase didn't tell Amu the truth. He found that the answer to both those questions was 'yes,' honest and a little bit painful to admit. Yes, he was that shallow. Yes, he was afraid. Yes, he was a coward. Yes, he was going to keep seeing Ikuto on the corner to himself.

…

Kazuomi heard something rattling in his desk drawer and pulled it open, peering inside at the black-and-white egg decorated with jagged teeth and the generic shape of a cat's head. Tsukiyomi Ikuto's guardian egg, Yoru, was trapped there. His egg was taped shut.

Kazuomi lifted the egg out in his hand, marveling at just how warm it was and fluttering faintly like a bird. It was the beat of Ikuto's heart, of his wishes, of his very soul. Kazuomi squeezed his fingers on the small egg, hearing Yoru's muted voice shout from inside it.

What would it be like to take this egg in both hands and crush it? Would it destroy Ikuto wholly and completely?

In his large hand, Yoru's small egg shivered and wavered, seeming to fade for a moment, but then solidified again. Ikuto's will was strong, even without memories and friends, even without his Yoru. It was too bad the boy was worthless because a strong will like that was wonderful.

Kazuomi put the egg back in the drawer and closed it.

In the darkness, Yoru shivered. He missed Ikuto, he could feel his master's heart beating brokenly far away. He wanted to return to him, to snuggle inside the collar of Ikuto's shirt and change with him, to watch over him. But, the fact that even after all these months, even knowing Ikuto's memories were gone, Yoru was still in existence. That meant that Ikuto was strong—stronger than anyone had even suspected. It didn't matter what Kazuomi had done to his mind. Yoru would find him and the Ikuto he knew and loved would return, because even without his memories Ikuto's Yoru still existed.

X: The Man Who Can't Be Moved :X

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