Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh or make a profit off of writing this fanfic.

Author's Note: Originally this started as a one-shot for the YGO Drabble LJ community's latest competition. But since nobody's actually posted anything there for a while, and the way I kept on getting little vignettes popping up in my head every time I thought about this little story concept, I've decided to write them as they come. How many parts this will have, I honestly don't know. I'm pretty much writing the stories as they come. Also, first Blueshipping fic ever (one peek in my profile will show I typically write Puzzle/Blindshipping), and Kaiba is a rare character for me to write, and this is (basically) my attempt at a modern Kisara. Enjoy, and don't forget to leave a review at the end!

He stared at the girl in front of him, shock echoing in every corner of his mind while he schooled his face into a mask of stoic neutrality in front of him.

It doesn't matter what she looks like, she's not her. It's not possible, that other girl you saw was merely the result of a group hallucination. Of course, it went without saying she frequently appeared in his dreams, twirling and dancing with her hair swirling around her, just close enough for the tips of her silken silver tresses to brush his fingertips when he inevitably reached for her.

He looked down at his desk, where her resume lay, in an attempt to recompose himself. Schools, internships, prior work experience swam past his eyes as he focused on her name.

"Well, Mr. Kaiba?" the girl evenly asked, her (presumably) long silver hair neatly tucked into a bun in an attempt for a mature and professional look to go with her suit.

He hid a flinch as his eyes raked back in her direction. "Mr. Kaiba is my father," he bit out at her.

If there was an ounce of fear from Seto's harsh words, she didn't show it. "Well then, how shall I address you," she paused, making eye contact with him. "Sir?"

The sharp blue eyes that returned his gaze were familiar (he saw it in triplicate every time he fine tuned his deck), and he swallowed as his throat went dry. Not for the first time during this interview, he found himself wondering what her silvery tresses would feel like if it were freed from its confines, and how her lips would feel crushed up against his. "Seto is fine," he commanded. Or at least, he hoped it came out as such.

A little smirk graced her lips – Kaiba swore his office felt a few degrees too warm, all of a sudden – before she repeated her question. "Well, Mr. Seto? Do I meet the requirements? Am I up to your standard?"

Kaiba new, at this point, that the girl in front of him (physical appearances be damned) was not the girl he had seen in that . . . that . . . whatever it was five years ago. The girl he had seen was mysterious, devoted, and, most of all, modest. Still, the resemblance was there, and the glittering look in her eyes was more than a little tempting in the way it spoke of, well, in a word, potential. To say he wasn't interested, in more ways than one, would be lying to himself. And Kaiba Seto never lies to himself. "Very well, you are to come in first thing at 7 am sharp Monday morning, Ms. Kisara-"

She cut him off with a smile, the one of a woman who knows she's won. "Kisara is fine." At his raised eyebrow, both at her gall to interrupt him and insistence on first name basis, she continued. "You have me addressing you by your first name, it is only fair I do the same in return."