They were alike. This man before him and himself. The man currently holding the item he resided in was nothing like him at all, he was boring, but he was fully aware what the spirit would do to this poor man if he was not the one.
The King of Thieves would have burnt the man on the spot if he hadn't found this exchange interesting. The man had swiped the ring, unfortunately for him, the most aggressive item, and took off. When Bakura had awoken, he had been about to turn whomever had brought him from his slumber into a pile of ashes, but sensing freedom from the Guardian and his boring residence, and finding this man to be intriguing, he refrained.
Of course the Guardian would not chase after the item himself, Bakura thought spitefully; he sent his men instead. The black robed men were gaining on the thief and of course, Bakura would have rolled his eyes, the guy tripped!
"P-Please, let me go…"
Pleading.
"You can have it back!"
Don't give me back! How is that your decision?!
Despite his promises, the lackeys snatched him to his feet anyway. The thief lowered in his head and hung limp in defeat. Bakura growled irritably.
"Wait! Please let that man go…!" the foreigner, "If he stole that ring, I'll pay for it…Here! This is the money I have!"
The American thrust a wad of cash forward. Bakura's eyes would have glittered with the wealth if he had known how much the green pieces of cloth were worth, but as it was, he did not know the fortune that was right in front of his face, so to speak.
Foolish human. Why would he sacrifice his money, no matter how peculiar it was, for a man he didn't even know? Some might call it noble or selfless, but the act filled the Thief King with disgust at how stupid it seemed.
Footsteps alerted mortal and immortal alike to a new presence. Ah, the nameless Guardian clad in white, a stark contrast to the shadow robes of his servants.
"This village, Kul Elna, was created by grave robbers," And destroyed by the Pharaoh. "It is called the Grave Robber Village…Thieves like him are not uncommon."
As the Guardian led the way back to his…home, if you could call it that, the thief called out for help, though he knew perfectly well that none would aid him.
"P-Please! I'm sorry I stole it!...Please, don't kill me…" the man cried as he was forced to kneel before the Guardian of the Items.
"I do not intend to condemn you for stealing the Millennium Ring…The issue is whether or not you are a chosen one," You know for a fact he isn't… "Will the Ring itself accept you as its bearer?"
NO!
The expression on the Guardian's face darkened, probably taken over by the Scale, Bakura mused, "Put on the Ring! Then the answer will make itself known!"
The men clad in black forced the Item around the man's neck. Not a moment passed before the Ring began to sizzle his flesh. The thief glanced down in horrified shock.
You are not the one! Bakura laughed malevolently.
W-Wha-?
You and I are alike though. Little thief.
The man screeched in unholy agony as flames burst out of his eyes and mouth, searing him from the inside out.
You are just like me. A thief. You are my subject; I am the King! And you will share MY FATE!
The ring clattered to the floor.