Strange story. But please, read, and judge it for yourself.

I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh!

It was a bright summer's day. The air was filled with a feeling of innocence and pureness. The sun shone, giving everything a soft golden sheen. In the continent of Japan, we find the city.

There was a building within the city. And in that building, there was a room, in which a stirring boy laid. His hair, which, at the moment, was a bit mussed up, was the thing one would first notice about him: it was black, tipped with crimson and streaked with gold. Golden bangs flopped over his young face. In his sleep, he looked at first glance to be boy of around fourteen or fifteen. To his friends, he is known as Yami.

The boy Yami let out a soft sigh. He hadn't slept so well in a long time, and was reluctant to open his eyes and accept the new day. He allowed himself to relax in the covers as the lingering fingers of sleep gradually faded away. It was Saturday, he knew: Yugi wouldn't need to be woken up, and that meant he, too, could sleep in. It had been a peaceful night, which was a welcome change. Lately, his nights had been plagued by nightmares that left him drenched in cold sweat. He could not tell if he'd spoken or even screamed in his sleep. He was convinced that not even the world ending could wake up Yugi in the middle of the night, and Grandpa was on a dig in Egypt, which meant there was no one else in the house but the two of them.

His memory had been coming back, bit by tiny bit, like a shattered puzzle reforming itself. And with the memories had come the nightmares. Night after night he'd tossed and turned in his bed as his mind replayed the videos from his old life. He'd gotten no peace and very little rest. Even on the rare occasion that he'd managed to stay asleep despite the dreams he'd woken up emotionally and physically drained.

Deciding he'd better get up to make breakfast, he opened his crimson eyes and started to stretch. But something tugged on his arm, holding it back.

Puzzled, he looked down, and his bright crimson eyes widened at what he saw.

Attached to his arm were multiple wires, red, blue, green, and white. He followed them with his eyes. They were hooked to a gently whirling machine, which was plugged into an outlet in a blank, white wall.

Confused, he took a good look at his surroundings, gulping when he realized he was definitely not where he had been when he'd fallen asleep last night. He was in a small room, purely white with a small window, through which sunlight was pouring. The room was undecorated, and mostly unfurnished. In fact, the room was filled only with the bed on which he laid, the bedside table next to him, and the various machines by which he was surrounded. Startled, he realized that wires hooked all the machines to him, and he was wearing an oxygen mask. He was covered only with a thin white sheet, wearing nothing but a white gown.

Shaking his head in disbelief, he started to yank the wires out, ignoring the slight pain it caused. What the hell is going on! He thought, starting to panic. Where am I?

With another yank, another wire came loose.

Then the door flew open.

"Atemu Tsusaka, WHAT ARE YOU DOING!"

Yami jumped, snapping his head up to see a woman in a white dress and wearing a furious expression bearing down on him. "Who are you!" he yelped, trying to back away as far as possible. But that was made impossible when she grabbed his arm and forced him back onto the bed.

"Ripping your wires out! The first time you wake up in weeks and all you can do is cause trouble – sit! Don't move, do you want to go into relapse?" she started to reattach the wires vigorously.

"Hey!" Yami protested, trying to pull his arm away. "You've got the wrong guy! I'm don't need to be here – let go!"

"Don't you tell me what to do, young man! Do you know what happened to you? You where struck by a car going home from school. You nearly died! You've been in the hospital for weeks, lying in a coma. Now don't you cause more trouble for yourself by fighting me!"

"What are you talking about?" Yami snapped, still trying without success to liberate his arm from her iron grip.

But she didn't get to answer, for at that moment, two more people dashed into the room. One was a brown haired man dressed in white with a stethoscope around in neck. The other person made straight for Yami, and did the thing the poor teen was expecting least: pulling the woman away, he grabbed him into a huge, bone breaking hug.

"Wha –" Yami yelped, struggling to pull himself free. Was it national Trap Yami Day or something? "Hey, get off! I don't even know you!"

The person pulled back, and Yami was able to see him clearly for the first time. It was a man about twenty years of age, with deep brown hair, soft eyes, and tanned skin. His clothes were worn and ragged, suggesting a low income, but he wore a smile on his handsome face.

"What do you mean, you don't know me? Did that car give you amnesia, or something?" the man asked teasingly, cocking his head. His voice was pleasant, and, for some reason, made Yami feel very safe.

"I – I'm sorry, I've never seen you before," the crimson eyed teen stammered. He had never felt this confused before in his memory.

The man smirked. "Very funny, 'Temu."

"I'm not joking!" Yami cried. "I don't know you!"

The man frowned, and turned to the two other adults in the room. "What's going on with him?"

The other man – the doctor, Yami realized – came forward and stood by his side. "Atemu, what do you remember?"

Yami scowled. "I'm not Atemu, I'm Yami! I'm telling you, wherever I am, you've got the wrong person!"

Now all three people were staring at him with expressions of shock on their faces. The doctor cleared his throat nervously. "All right, then…Yami…tell me, who are you?"

"What kind of question is that?" Yami asked blankly.

"Just…tell me everything you know about yourself. Everything, and anything. We promise we won't reveal any information to anyone else."

Yami gave a cold laugh. "You're going to think I'm completely crazy."

"Please, just do it."

Yami glared at the man, wondering if he really should. In the end, he decided, what the heck? Why not give these idiots as big a shock as they gave him? It'd provide great entertainment.

"Fine. Now, listen to my story."

The teen closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and began.

"Five thousand years ago, when the pyramids were still young…"

xxx

"That…is one strange story."

Yami rolled his eyes at the nurse, who was staring at him as though he'd lost his mind. "I told you so. But hey, you insisted."

"But why would this happen?" the woman turned away from the angry teen to face the doctor, who had an 'I'm thinking' look on his face.

"Well…while he was in a coma, our machines picked up quite a bit of brain waves, suggesting huge amounts of activity. In other words…all the things he thinks has happened to him…the person he thinks he is…was all a mere dream."

"What!" Yami screamed. "You're insane! That's it, I'm leaving! I don't belong here…wherever I am!" he swung himself off the bed, but before he could so much as take a step, the nurse shoved him back down. Placing a firm hand on his head, she successfully prevented any further attempts he made at escape.

"It's quite unusual for a dream to be so real, and replace all your memories, but…that's the only thing that could've happened," the doctor frowned. "As to how to get your memories back, that may be something only Time can cure. And how to convince you that you're not Yami, but Atemu? For starters, there is no such place as Domino City. For another, if you look back in history, I can assure you there was no Pharaoh named Yami."

"And this may tell you all you need to know about how your dream came about."

Yami looked at the young man who had spoken. He was holding out a worn out notebook. On the front was written, in neat handwriting, 'Yu-Gi-Oh! By Atemu Tsusaka'.

With a slightly shaking hand, Yami accepted the notebook, and opened it. His eyes opened in shock. Page after page was filled with words. He flipped hurriedly through it, and random words jumped out at him. "Hikari," "Yugi," and "Egypt," for starters. The whole notebook seemed to be one long story. There were random loose pages stuck in here and there. He turned to the first page, and read, on the very first line, "Five thousand years ago, when the pyramids were still young…"

He was shaking with shock. He scanned through the pages. His life, his history…it was all there. How the puzzle had been solved, how he had met Yugi, Duelist Kingdom, Battle City, Memory world…everything that had ever happened to him was recorded in handwriting that he faintly, very faintly, recognized, though he was sure he'd never seen it before in his life.

"Where…what is this?" he breathed, looking up at the man who had hugged him earlier, who had given him the notebook.

The browned haired man gazed back at him, worry evident in his eyes. "It's yours, Atemu. You wrote it. Every single word."

"Me? No…that's not possible!" Yami gasped, his breathing becoming harsher as his brain struggled to comprehend what was happening.

"You worked on that story for months. We found it inside your backpack," the man replied quietly. "It's yours, Atemu. It fits perfectly with your dream."

There was no arguing this. Yami – or was he really Atemu? – gazed at the stranger with wonder. "Who…are you?" he finally asked.

"My name is Kasin. And I'm your brother."

Yami was at a loss for words.

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