Fake it Till we Make it
Chapter 1
The Uchiha Enterprises headquarters loomed over Konoha, a sleek monolith of glass and steel that reflected the precision and power of the company it housed. On the twenty-seventh floor, Uchiha Sasuke sat at his desk, poring over the latest details of a high-stakes real estate development. His office was pristine, organized to the point of obsession.
Tayuya, his secretary, stood in the doorway, a tablet tucked under one arm. Professional to the bone but known for her bluntness, she had worked for Sasuke longer than most—three months, which in "Sasuke Uchiha time" might as well have been three years. But even she had her limits.
"You've got back-to-backs until two," she began crisply, tapping the tablet. "HR at ten to finalize the new hires. Hyuga group at noon—don't forget they'll expect updates on the Yokohama proposal. And for the love of everything holy, please don't tweak the wording on the agreement during the meeting. They're already on edge."
Sasuke didn't look up, his focus glued to his screen. "If the agreement is flawed, it needs to be fixed. I'm not signing anything until it's perfect."
Tayuya sighed. "Of course, because three rounds of revisions aren't enough when you can find a grammatical error in a footnote."
His sharp gaze finally lifted. "This isn't about grammar; it's about precision. If you can't appreciate that—"
"Oh, I appreciate it," Tayuya cut in, whose long, long day (month, reall) was beginning to wear at her soul. "What I don't appreciate is having to redo the same document three times because you suddenly decide the wording isn't precise enough at the eleventh hour."
Sasuke's brow furrowed, but he didn't respond, so she pressed on, hating his guts for being so stupidly stoic (and professionally constipated). "After the Hyuga call, you've got your check-in with Suigetsu and Karin. And PR asked if you'd stop intimidating the interns. Apparently, your 'resting boss face' is scaring them."
"I'm not here to babysit interns," Sasuke said flatly.
"No kidding," she muttered under her breath.
"What was that?"
Tayuya straightened her posture, her professionalism slipping slightly as frustration crept into her voice, the last threads of her patience wearing really, really thin. "Look, Sasuke, I know you're a perfectionist. I get it. But you've been micromanaging every little thing I do for weeks now, and it's exhausting. This job isn't just about managing your schedule—it's about managing you. And quite frankly, I'm not sure it's worth the stress anymore." Truly, she'd begun to question all her life choices by now.
Sasuke set his tablet down, leaning back in his chair. "If you can't handle the pressure, you're welcome to leave."
The words were spoken smoothly, without emotion. Like everything about Sasuke, they were curt and taciturn. Tayuya looked at him long and hard, waiting to see if he'd take them back (and knowing full well he wouldn't [egotistic bastard that we was]). Finally, her lips pressed into a thin line as she made her decision. "You know what? Fine." She placed her tablet carefully on the desk, her movements deliberate. "I quit. Effective immediately."
The finality in her tone caught Sasuke off guard. "You're overreacting," he said, though his voice lacked conviction.
Tayuya hesitated, then squared her shoulders. "Look, Sasuke, I'm good at my job—great, actually—but I can't work like this anymore. Your standards are one thing, but the constant micromanaging, the late-night emails, the eleventh-hour revisions? It's exhausting. You burn through people faster than this office burns through coffee." She paused, took a deep breath. "I've put up with it longer than most," Tayuya continued, her voice firm but steady. "But I'm done. You'll find someone else—you always do. Good luck."
She turned on her heel and opened the door with more force than necessary.
Outside, Karin, Suigetsu, and Jūgo, who had been discussing the upcoming Yokohama project, jolted at the sound. Tayuya strode out, her heels clicking sharply against the tile.
"I'm done," she announced, dropping her ID badge onto Karin's desk. "He's all yours now. Good luck—you'll need it."
The trio stared at her retreating form, stunned into silence.
"Well," Suigetsu drawled after a beat, "there goes the only person who could put up with him."
"Not surprising," Karin muttered, adjusting her glasses. "He's impossible."
Jūgo nodded solemnly. "That's the sixth one this year."
There was a morose pause as they all silently (and judgementally) looked at Sasuke's office.
Karin sighed, breaking the silence. "So, what's the plan now? Another hire who'll quit in two months?"
"Or sooner," Suigetsu said with a grin.
"I'll talk to HR," Jūgo offered, his calm voice a stark contrast to the chaos Tayuya had left behind.
Karin rolled her eyes. "Good luck. He's going to need someone who's practically superhuman to survive him."
Unbeknownst to them, someone fitting that description was about to walk into their lives.
Inside the office, Sasuke sat at his desk, his jaw tight. He didn't regret holding high standards—it was those standards that had made Uchiha Enterprises what it was today. But as he stared at the empty space where Tayuya had stood, he couldn't ignore the truth of her words.
The Uchiha name was a brand. It carried weight like a designer label—sharp, sleek, and utterly untouchable. But it wasn't just about their glossy crest or the effortless cool they radiated. No, the Uchihas didn't just build a name; they built a legacy.
It all started generations ago, when Madara Uchiha—a man with a sharp eye and even sharper instincts—saw value in a barren patch of dirt everyone else dismissed as worthless. That one gamble turned into a gold mine: luxury high-rises, sprawling office parks, penthouses with floor-to-ceiling windows. Over decades, the family took his vision and scaled it to levels few could dream of, creating Uchiha Enterprises: a corporate titan leasing prime real estate to the world's biggest players.
Their Tokyo headquarters stood as a testament to this success. A sleek monolith of glass and steel, it exuded power and precision. Every inch of it whispered efficiency, from the spotless marble floors to the workers who glided through the halls with the quiet professionalism of a well-oiled machine.
At 25, Sasuke Uchiha was one of the brightest stars in this empire—not just "the CEO's son" but a force to be reckoned with in his own right. As Head of Regional Operations, he oversaw some of the company's most lucrative ventures. He had spent his teenage years shadowing board meetings, summers interning at their global offices, and by 22, had earned a master's degree from an Ivy League university.
Still, even with his impressive résumé, Sasuke wasn't satisfied. His brother, Itachi, was the benchmark he measured himself against—a corporate legend and current Director of Global Capital Projects. Sasuke wanted to match him, exceed him, surpass him. But even golden boys had their flaws.
Sasuke's? Secretaries. Or, more specifically, his inability to keep one.
It wasn't that Sasuke was a bad boss. At least, that's what he told himself. Demanding? Sure. Snappish? Maybe. But was it really so much to ask that the people working under him knew what they were doing? He didn't have the time—or the patience—to deal with mistakes. If they didn't know the difference between a cost baseline and a contingency fund, why were they even breathing the same air?
And yet, the office grapevine was relentless. "The Uchiha Nightmare," they called him. (Ridiculous. He preferred to think of himself as particular.) His father had started hinting at "softening his edges," while his mother, ever the diplomat, had delivered one of her signature lines about "kindness as a strength." Predictably, Sasuke had ignored both of them.
When the sixth resignation in a row landed on his desk, it wasn't Sasuke who decided something needed to change. It was Itachi.
Sasuke sat in the boardroom, his tablet glowing with projections and timelines as he walked Itachi through the latest updates. The air was still, save for the hum of the city beyond the glass walls. Itachi sat across from him, his posture relaxed but his gaze as sharp as ever.
"Routine maintenance is on track," Sasuke began, flipping to a chart on his screen. "Kyoto Tower's HVAC overhaul is ahead of schedule, and we've finalized the priority refurbishments for Yokohama and Sapporo. No budget overruns so far."
Itachi nodded, his expression thoughtful but unreadable. "And the five-year capital plan?"
"I'm refining it," Sasuke said, swiping to another slide. "Kakashi from Group Real Estate flagged a few issues in the operational budgets. I've adjusted for projected cost increases, but we'll need to run it past his team next week."
Itachi tapped a finger against the armrest of his chair, his only tell when he was processing something. "The board will want a more refined version by the quarterly review. Especially after Kakashi's input."
Sasuke's jaw tightened, but he nodded. "I know."
"And the PMO?" Itachi asked.
That question made Sasuke pause. "I've started drafting an RFI," he said carefully. "But it's going to take time to find the right fit, onboard them, and integrate them into the current workflow."
Itachi's gaze lingered on his younger brother for a moment before he said, "The board isn't happy with the current reporting structure. They want consistent updates, and they want them soon."
"I'm aware," Sasuke replied, his voice clipped.
Itachi tilted his head slightly, his tone calm but firm. "If you're aware, Sasuke, then you know this isn't something that can wait. We need to address it before it becomes a bigger issue."
Sasuke resisted the urge to sigh, instead swiping to another slide. "I'll finalize the RFI by Thursday."
Itachi gave a faint nod of approval, but his gaze didn't soften. The conversation moved to a few more points—tenant agreements, refurbishment timelines, and projected urban development costs—before Sasuke began gathering his things.
But as he stood, tablet in hand, Itachi didn't move.
"One more thing," Itachi said, his tone shifting just slightly, enough to signal that the topic was about to change.
Sasuke froze. "What is it?"
"I heard from HR this morning," Itachi began, his voice steady but gentle. "Your secretary resigned."
Sasuke's shoulders stiffened. "She wasn't meeting expectations."
Itachi raised an eyebrow. "She lasted five months, Sasuke. Which, for you, is a personal best."
Sasuke's face remained carefully neutral as he shrugged. "She was struggling to keep up."
Itachi leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. His voice was calm but carried the weight of an older brother who had seen this pattern too many times. "Sasuke, you hold yourself to a standard no one else could possibly match. That's admirable. But it's also why you can't keep a secretary. No one is perfect—not even you."
Sasuke's jaw tightened, but he didn't respond.
"HR can't keep scrambling to fill the role," Itachi continued. "And you can't keep burning through people who might actually be good at their job if you gave them the chance. You're going to have to make a choice: lower your expectations, or let me find someone for you."
"I don't need you hiring my secretary," Sasuke said, his voice firm but quieter than usual.
"You don't need me," Itachi agreed. "But clearly, you need help."
Sasuke opened his mouth to argue but stopped when he saw the look on Itachi's face—not stern, not disappointed, but patient. Understanding.
"I know you want everything to be perfect," Itachi said softly. "But sometimes, you have to let go of what isn't important so you can focus on what is. Let me help you."
There was a long silence as Sasuke processed his brother's words. Finally, he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Fine," he muttered.
Itachi smiled faintly, standing and smoothing his suit jacket. "Good. I'll take care of it."
"Don't make this a thing," Sasuke said, frowning.
"It's already a thing," Itachi replied, his voice light with the kind of affection only an older brother could pull off. "But don't worry, little brother. I'll find someone who can handle you."
Sasuke's scowl deepened, but he didn't argue. He knew when Itachi had made up his mind, there was no changing it.
As the door clicked shut behind him, Sasuke sank back into his chair, staring at the tablet in his hands.
"Perfect," he muttered under his breath, as if the word itself were a challenge.
Itachi Uchiha rarely, if ever, took breaks. His schedule was packed tighter than a Tokyo subway at rush hour, and every minute of his time was accounted for—meetings, calls, reviews, approvals. So when he carved out two hours in his day, it wasn't a small gesture. It was monumental.
Sitting in one of the smaller, glass-walled interview rooms on the executive floor, Itachi scanned a stack of résumés his secretary had meticulously shortlisted. He flipped through each profile, his sharp eyes cataloging qualifications, skills, and experience with the efficiency of a machine.
They all looked promising on paper. They always did. But finding someone who could survive Sasuke's demanding work environment wasn't about credentials or polished bullet points. It was about adaptability. It was about grit. And Itachi wasn't just looking for competence—he was looking for someone who wouldn't break under pressure.
"I've also asked HR to revise the salary package upward," Itachi had told his secretary earlier that morning. "Incentives might help keep this one around longer."
"Smart," his secretary had replied, though her tone hinted she thought Sasuke's issue was less about money and more about personality.
Now, as the first candidate entered the room, Itachi adjusted his posture and prepared for the gauntlet.
He was a tall man with a sharp suit and a sharper tongue. He spoke in clipped, confident sentences, rattling off his accomplishments with the fervor of someone who had memorized every line of his résumé.
"I believe my experience managing high-pressure environments will be a perfect fit for Mr. Uchiha's needs," he declared, flashing what he probably thought was a winning smile.
Itachi's expression didn't change. "And how would you handle constant revisions to your work?"
"Revisions?" The man hesitated, then recovered. "I'd welcome feedback, of course."
Itachi's gaze didn't waver. "Even if the feedback required you to work past midnight to meet a deadline?"
The man faltered. "Well, I'd… adapt as needed."
"Noted," Itachi said, making a quick mark on his clipboard. He didn't look up as the man left, but his impression was clear: All surface, no substance.
The second candidate was younger, almost too eager, practically bouncing in their seat. Their enthusiasm was palpable but bordering on overwhelming.
"I'm a fast learner!" they said brightly. "I can adapt to anything. And I work great under pressure."
Itachi raised an eyebrow. "Define 'pressure.'"
"Oh, you know—tight deadlines, lots of responsibility, difficult clients…"
"Good," Itachi said. "Now imagine handling all of that with a boss who doesn't accept anything less than perfection. Do you think you'd thrive in that environment?"
The candidate blinked, their smile dimming slightly. "Well, uh, I'd… try?"
"Thank you," Itachi said smoothly, gesturing to the door. All energy, no resilience.
The third candidate was a woman, poised and professional, with credentials that practically sparkled.
"I've managed executive schedules for over five years," she explained, her tone measured. "I'm confident I can handle anything Mr. Uchiha requires."
Itachi leaned forward slightly. "And if his requirements are unclear or constantly shifting?"
She frowned faintly, as though the concept annoyed her. "I'd request clarification."
Itachi tilted his head. "And if clarification wasn't forthcoming?"
Her lips pressed into a thin line. "Then I'd need to set boundaries."
Itachi nodded thoughtfully but made another note. Too rigid. Won't last.
Then there was the fourth candidate, a man with an easygoing demeanor that bordered on too casual.
"Deadlines don't bother me," he said, lounging in his chair like he was in a coffee shop instead of a job interview. "I'm great at keeping things chill."
Itachi's stare hardened. "Sasuke doesn't need 'chill.' He needs precision. Can you provide that?"
"Sure thing," the man replied with a shrug.
"Thank you," Itachi said, already dismissing him mentally. Too relaxed. Won't survive.
The final candidate was a young woman named Haruno Sakura.
She was younger than the others, her résumé notably thinner. A certificate in Corporate Governance stood out as her highest qualification, and she lacked the years of executive experience the other candidates boasted. But something about the way she walked into the room—confident but not overbearing—made Itachi pause. Also, she had quite an interesting disposition—silvery hair that bordered on pink and eyes so green they stood out against her white skin. Interesting, he noted and filed it away.
"Miss Haruno," he began, glancing at her résumé. "You're aware this position is for the secretary of a Head of Regional Operations?"
"Yes," Sakura replied evenly.
He tried to be diplomatic with his next words, "Your qualifications are… modest compared to the others. Why do you think you're a fit for this role?"
Sakura smiled faintly, folding her hands in her lap. "Because I understand what this role requires. It's not about having the most degrees or the fanciest title. It's about understanding expectations, staying calm under pressure, and adapting to what's needed."
"And if the expectations are impossible?" Itachi asked, his tone sharp.
"They're not," she said without hesitation.
That had caught him off guard. "You're certain of that?"
"Impossible expectations aren't the problem," she explained, her tone calm but confident. "The problem is how you approach them. If something can't be done, you explain why and offer alternatives. If it can be done, you figure it out. Either way, you focus on the solution, not the problem."
"Hmm. And if your managers expectations exceed what you can deliver?"
"I adapt," she replied simply. "I don't flinch at criticism, and I don't waste time arguing. I focus on solutions, not excuses."
Itachi leaned forward slightly. "You make it sound simple," he noted, amused. "That's very pragmatic, if not optimistic of you, Miss Haruno."
"What's the point in overcomplicating things," she shot back, smiling lightly.
"Indeed," Itachi agreed. "But let's talk about your goals. Why do you want this job?"
"Honestly? The money," Sakura said, her tone frank. "I have bigger dreams, but right now, I need to save. This position offers the financial stability I need to reach my goals."
Itachi's eyes narrowed. "We're looking for long-term stability, not a stepping stone."
Sakura didn't miss a beat. "Then we're aligned. Based on my projections, I'll be here for at least two years. That should be plenty of time for me to deliver exactly what you're looking for. And in that time, I can promise you I'll give this role my absolute best."
Her candor was startling, but it was also refreshing.
"Again," he noted carefully. "We're looking for long-term stability,"
"Again. I'll be your best option for the time I'm here," she replied without missing a beat.
Itachi had stared at her for a moment longer than he intended, studying the calm resolve in her expression.
What an interesting turn of events.
Now, as he sat in the empty room, he thought back to that interview. There was no doubt that Sakura was the least qualified candidate on paper. But she had something the others didn't: resilience, honesty, and a quiet confidence that told him she wouldn't run at the first sign of trouble. Being in the position that he was, he had developed quite an instinct for people. And his instinct was niggling at him to choose her.
Itachi drummed his fingers against the table. Hiring someone with so little experience was a gamble, but Sasuke didn't need experience—he needed someone who could keep up with him and withstand the hurricane of his exacting standards.
The decision clicked into place.
He pressed a button on the intercom. A moment later, his secretary's voice came through.
"Yes, Mr. Uchiha?"
"Contact Miss Haruno," he said. "Tell her she has the job. Start the paperwork, and let HR know she'll begin next week."
"Understood," his secretary replied crisply.
Itachi leaned back again, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He wasn't entirely sure Sakura Haruno could handle Sasuke, but for now, he was placing his bets on her.
And sometimes, even the Uchihas had to take a gamble.
He mentally wished her good luck, knowing she would need it.
Hello hello, can you tell i work in corporate now? Yes, yes, i do. For the first time, no research! I actually know wtf i am talking about 😀
tbc and reviews are always, always welcome