It's funny...Yuugi still has such confidence, whereas Kaiba himself has frayed at the edges, faced with the reality of his inadequacies so frequently that his only course of action to rise against it is to continue being who he is, antagonizing because he can, and bearing the weight of those choices as they drag him down to Hell.

He's been told, many times, that he shouldn't say certain things.

Just as many times, he's spat in the face of kindness because his pride would allow little else.

He envies Yuugi, for his resilience. Kaiba has resilience too, but ever since back then...everything in his life has felt as if he was barely on stable footing, shunted into an angle that very nearly trips him with every step.

He wants to sleep. He's so tired. Sleep.

...Wait, what?

Kaiba tries to push himself up on one arm, but finds that he can't raise himself up further than a few inches. He's too heavy. He's too tired, suddenly. Why?

There's an odd, sweet scent in the air. He can't identify it--it's probably something not of their world, since he knows that the facility is run by alien creatures of a sort--but it must be related to his sudden exhaustion.

Yuugi, don't b...breathe.

Stupid advice. Foolish. But it's as much warning as he'll get from Kaiba.

The scientists must be pushing chemicals through the vents. The next time Kaiba tries to mouth anything, it's unreadable.