One tear.
That was all Bakura allowed himself.
One tear every 1000 years, on the anniversary of the night his life was stolen from him. He hadn't cried a single tear besides the 4 he had permitted himself since he was a child. It was such a senseless slaughter. His village executed, his family butchered right before his eyes.
And for what?
To protect the Kingdom from something that might happen. It was pathetic. More than pathetic.
Cruel. Vile. Despicable. Inhumane.
Bakura was only a seven year old child when it happened. He watched from the shadows of the doorway of a shack as his villagers were rounded up like a herd of animals and killed; their bodies ripped apart and thrown into the fire. What was a seven year old supposed to do?
He had no family left. No belongings. No love. Pain became the only thing he knew. The pain of his massive loss. The pain of the scar on his cheek under his right eye as a result of one of the soldiers finding him after the ritual was done.
"It's a shame you weren't around before the ritual. Off with your filth." Was all the soldier said, before slicing him with his sword and leaving him for death.
Death didn't come.
Bakura had to learn to become a survivor. He had to learn to fight. Learn to steal. Learn the sly ways of a criminal. He had no other choice. What could he do? No one would help the boy.
So he helped himself.
He made a name for himself over the years. People feared him. He robbed tombs, stole precious gems, money, anything he needed. He vowed retaliation. He was going to avenge the fallen and allow the haunting spirits of his village to finally rest in peace.
The only way to do it was to kill the Pharaoh.
Sadly, the Pharaoh who ordered the butchering died before Bakura good get to him. So he went after the next best thing.
His son.
The son was going to pay for the sins of his father. Bakura would not stop until he was dead. His death would be long and excruciating. He would feel the same suffering as Bakura's people did, but much, much slower.
Bakura and Pharaoh Atem had a few clashes. Bakura's Ka was extremely powerful, but not powerful enough. Something went wrong. He ended up being trapped in the Millennium Ring for the past 5000 years. Luckily, this time he found who possessed the Millennium Puzzle.
A little cowardly brat named Yugi Moto. Bakura's archenemy could take control of Yugi like Bakura could his host.
He was finally going to get his vengeance.
Bakura took another long drag of his cigarette as he ran a hand through his hair. He released the smoke as a single tear found one of his brown eyes. He restricted the automatic urge to suppress it, and let his eyelid overflow with the salty liquid. It dripped slowly down the length of his face, past his emotionlessly straight mouth until it reached his chin. It hung there until finally, it fell to the floor. It splattered there and Bakura analyzed the glistening spot.
It would be the last tear Bakura would ever cry.