Welcome to the start of my puzzleshipping fanfiction, Remembrance! Any kind of review, feedback, or just following the story would be greatly appreciated! This should be updated bi-weekly, (but depending upon fanbase, I may give a few chapters early) and there should be either six or seven chapters. (the entire thing is already written out.) Only the first chapter is typed though, so bear with me!

~~~~~~Chapter 1~~~~~~

Yuugi's POV
Tears were rushing down my face like a waterfall. I couldn't bring myself to stop crying, couldn't force myself to pull it together. I loved him.
A year ago today, the Pharaoh left. He walked through that door, into his past, and away from me.
I wanted to, I wanted so badly, with every fiber of my being, to go with him. The fabric of time and space couldn't handle it, though. I'd be a spirit, like he was previously. He'd told me stories, and I didn't think I could handle it. Didn't think I could handle feeling so… disconnected.
I almost laughed bitterly at how much I was lying to myself. Lying through my teeth. I could've handled being a spirit. What I can't handle? Him being gone.
I can remember it like it was yesterday, all the time we spent together. All the love and hope we shared.
"I love you." I'd say, looking up into his half-there eyes. He'd turn to me with a dazzling smile and try to hug me, even though I couldn't feel it unless I was knocking on Death's door.
The few times he had held me in his arms, when I could actually feel his touch and the presence of his body, those were the best moments of my life. No matter the pain or suffering, he was there. My love, my partner, my world. How, oh, how I wish that, when we were actually able, he'd have thought to kiss me.
"I love you, too." He'd whisper back, and sometimes, if I was lucky, he'd lean down and 'kiss' me. I couldn't really feel it, just like when he wrapped his arms around me (which had grown to be an every night occurrence) but the intent still caused butterflies to rise in my stomach.
I have nightmares now, almost nightly. I'd had the problem since I was a child, really, and only one thing made them go away. He did. When he wrapped his arms around me, I was calm and secure enough to sleep through the night. Even if I couldn't feel it, the security he offered was enough to get me through.
More than anything in the world, I missed him.
I thought that when he left, I may have received some peace. He was the other half of my soul, I figured I might at least finally feel 'complete' on some level. Instead, it felt like the other half of my soul had been torn away. Ripped violently from my grasp. He seemed so far away from me.
Separated by thousands of years.
Did he even miss me? What if he didn't remember me at all? Then, the question that bothers me the most; was he happy?
In a way, as much as he should remember me, I hope that he doesn't. Because, in some way, I want him to be happy. Even if that means forgetting me, even if he, (as unthinkable as it was) fell in love with another. I needed him to be happy. If I just knew that he was, maybe I'd have a little peace.
I cried harder, remembering all the times that we shared. I remember the deep conversations we'd have, him telling me stories. He always told the best stories.
While he didn't have a lot of his memories, things that he never failed to remember were ancient Egyptian Legends and Mythology. He told the tales of old so well, and they had the details that had slipped through the sands of time. He made it seem like those things had actually happened. He'd believed them, and his belief always made it seem so magical. I loved hearing him tell stories.
When he got his memories back, though, those were the best stories. He'd tell of things he'd seen, the beauty of ancient Egypt. It always seemed so great. And with him as my Pharaoh? I would've lived there any day.
It wasn't even necessarily the plot line, (though it was always excellent and promised intrigue) it was really the sound of his voice. It was smooth and deep, almost like a lullaby. The few times he actually sang, it stole my very heart. He was amazing. And, in every aspect but the physical one, he was mine.
Which is why I wept. For everything that we'd had, and for everything that we couldn't have.
I cried myself to sleep, because I couldn't bear to face today and all that it meant.
How it meant everything that couldn't be.

_
Yami's POV
When I woke, I was in the middle of a field. Somewhere, I really didn't know. I scanned my memory for anything; how I got there, where I was. Nothing. What scared me the most, though, is that I couldn't remember who I was.
I tried for memories of childhood, accomplishments I'd made, younger siblings. Nothing came up. I was confused, cold, and to be honest, I was tired. Even if I did just wake up.
I sat up slowly, reaching a hand up to rub at my neck. It felt like I'd been trampled by a thousand bulls, but I forced myself to stand slowly. Looking over at my surroundings, I noticed a herd of bulls and a farmer.
The farmer saw me and stared in awe, running over to aid in my awakening. He mumbled something in a completely foreign language, and I had no choice but to respond in my own.
"Do you speak Japanese?" I asked. The farmer shook his head as if to clear it. He asked another question in his own language, and I was helpless to translate.
His daughter came out happily, skipping along. She froze as soon as she saw me, her eyes widening like saucers. She turned to her father and mumbled something and he responded, turning back and eying me warily.
The girl ran back into the house, and the farmer started to follow her, gesturing for me to follow. At least hand gestures are the same in every language.
I followed them into the house and watched as he picked up a telephone, talking to someone furiously on the other end. After a few minutes of blathering, he hung up the phone and went over to the computer. Attempting to do whatever it was he was trying to do, he moved aside so I could see the screen. I couldn't understand the language, though I did recognize the format.
He typed something out, choosing two from a long list of languages before pressing the small button that I could only assume read, 'translate'.
'I called the police. They should get you home. Who you are?' The screen displayed. I inwardly cringed at the poor quality of the translator, but I didn't comment. I took over the computer for a moment, fiddling with the settings before trying to remember how to type in roomaji. It was difficult, but eventually I managed to scrape up an entire sentence.
'I don't remember.' I typed, then pressed the translate button. He looked at it a moment before his features became curious, and I knew he was wondering about me just as much as I was. He shook his head and typed something else.
'Okay. They'll take care of you. I explained all things to the police. They have translation.' It said. I shook my head yes in understanding, turning. I didn't want to spend any more time typing out what I was planning on saying, and the police would be there soon anyways. I just hoped they didn't have an English to Japanese dictionary as means of translation.
Their little girl pulled out a chair for me and patted the cushion. I sat down and muttered my thanks, hiding my smile. I hoped she understood; it was a fairly popular saying to know, thanks to Stix.
She smiled broadly at me, seeming to understand. She turned to her mother and they had a small exchange, before she turned and looked at me again with that smile.
"Konichiwa!" She exclaimed happily. It was still technically morning, (and that's the daytime greeting,) but the intent was still there.
"Konichiwa." I returned, nodding my head respectfully. She giggled in happiness and turned to her mother for a few more minutes, a spark in her eyes. Eventually, she became discouraged with the conversation and slumped down in her seat, pouting. Apparently, her and her mother had run out of Japanese to use.
About thirty minutes of awkward silence later, a police cruiser rolled up the driveway, containing two people. One was a thin but well-built woman wearing a suit jacket and carrying a brief case. She looked incredibly professional and extremely intelligent. The other was a man in an officer's uniform, and he looked like he needed to lay off the fast food that he clearly enjoyed so much.
The woman entered the home with purpose, looking around until her eyes fell upon me, sitting alone at the table. After the girl had given up on conversation, she'd began to help her mother cook, leaving me alone.
"You're going to come with us. You'll be in good hands. We've contacted the general Japanese public news stations, and even if you can't remember, we'll help you find your family. We'll get everything taken care of." The woman said smoothly in fluent Japanese, gesturing for me to come along. She turned and walked back out to the beaten up cruiser, taking out a clip board and balancing it on her hip purposefully. As she let me into the car, she stated, "News flies fast in Nashville Tennessee."
I climbed into the back, dumbfounded. I was in… Tennessee? Well, that was certainly a long way from my home. I wondered how I got there of all places, but decided quickly not to dwell on it.
When I arrived at the hospital, (since that's apparently where they were taking me) I was absolutely bombarded with questions by anyone and everyone. Who was I? I couldn't answer that. What part of Japan was I from? Again, I was clueless on how to respond. They began to run a series of tedious tests regarding my brain and mental health, since apparently they thought something was wrong up there. Nothing came back positive, not even trauma.
Finally, around three o'clock, they took my picture for the Japanese news, to help me find a relative or friend who was willing to come and help me. The woman behind the camera was a tireless flirt and had taken Japanese in high school, so there was no way for me to ignore it, even though she could barely get out two words before pausing. By the end of that, I was thoroughly convinced that the crazy woman just wanted my picture, but I thought it best not to say. Even if my translator wasn't around and she wouldn't catch any of it on her own.
All in all, at the end of the day, I was as tired as I could possibly be. I lay down on the lumpy, uncomfortable bed and tried to focus on anything but the hectic day I'd had. I sighed, wishing desperately that I could remember something, anything! After a little while, I gave up and stared at the ceiling, letting my mind wander until sleep overtook me.