Spilling His Guts to Her
Bakura sighed and ran a hand through his hair. What he'd said wasn't enough for her, and he didn't blame her for not trusting him. After all, he'd been lying to her all this time about something as basic as who he was. It wasn't as though he'd ever given her any reason to trust him, and she was reacting more positively than he would have in her place.
"I grew up as a thief," he said abruptly, digging his nail into the skin of another orange and carefully picking off the skin. "The village where I grew up was a haven for criminals anyway since it was so out of the way of the Pharaoh's law-keepers and had an oasis which supplied precious water.
"My parents were good people, simple farmers who were content with what they had, but that wasn't what the Pharaoh and his court saw when he looked at us. They only cared that there were criminals there. So when the priests found a spell that could save Egypt from the barbarians who were threatening to overrun the country but required a huge sacrifice, they turned to Kuru Eruna.
"It was a massacre. The soldiers came through and simply razed the village, dragging the bodies of the dead to the priests to be melted into gold in order to create the Items that would save Egypt. I don't know how many died exactly, but I was one of the few survivors, a child small enough to hide in places where no one would think to look, and I saw their bloody ritual." His eyes burned with fury and helpless rage at the mere thought, and he moved on quickly.
"When everything was over the survivors came creeping out to pick up what was left and try to put their lives back together. It was a pretty pitiful little group – less than twenty remained out of what had been a bustling village. One of the visiting thieves took charge of everyone, made us take what food remained in the village and chivying us out of there. I don't remember much about that time – I couldn't think about anything other than what had happened to me and to my parents – but he taught me how to survive in the world, how to steal," He looked up briefly, then returned his gaze to his hands, which were fiddling with the globe of the orange uncertainly. "How to kill." There it was: the thing he had tried to keep from her set out in plain sight. He had killed, and even if he hadn't enjoyed it he'd do it again if he had to.
"I'm not sure how long it took, just as I don't know how old I really am, although I can make a reasonable guess at the second, but thanks in part to Zoku, who first appeared immediately after the massacre I learned pretty quickly and moved on from simple pick-pocketing to robbing the tombs of the dead. You may do it differently here, but those who could afford it would bury much of their wealth in the tomb with them to provide for themselves in the afterlife. It was like free money – if you could get to it and evade all the traps and curses inside the tomb itself. Diabound helped me there. With his help I could simply walk through the walls of the tombs of the tombs, bypassing the traps neatly. That made it easier to remember how to get out too.
"So anyway, by the time when I broke into the Pharaoh's palace I didn't need to do so – not for money anyway. I was there to get revenge." He shrugged. "I'm a bit fuzzy on that part, actually, since that was mostly Zoku's idea, but then, a lot of things back then are fuzzy. He was in my head for so long that it's difficult to be sure which of the things that I did were solely my own ideas and which were his, but I know that the idea of revenge was his. I would never have dreamed of going after the Pharaoh." He was babbling, Bakura realised abruptly, and shut up. Myrtle would come to her own decision, and if that made her hate him then he couldn't stop her by prattling on like he had been. Silent now, he waited for the blow to fall.