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Rukia stared into the mirror, smoothing the front of her dress for the umpteenth time. She was glad her hands weren’t shaking. She was rather proud, actually, that none of her nervousness showed on the outside. She had always been rather uncomfortable to be put on the spotlight, a rather unfortunate quality for a daughter of a wealthy and prominent family. Although she personally had had little to do with the multi-million company their family had founded some 80 years ago, her older brother always having been the heir to the fortune, she had never managed to escape all these nonsensical events; balls, dinners, fundraisers, charity work and galas of all sorts. It all came with the impressive name, and that was her cross to bear. In just a few minutes, she’d be out there, on the stage and in the spotlight, forced to speak to a room full of people.
It was the annual gala where they awarded Japan’s athletes. The evening was about to reach its peak, because only one award was left to be given away, the one rewarding the sportsperson of the year. The Kuchiki Corporation had rather generously sponsored some of the year’s sporting events, so it hadn’t altogether been a huge surprise to be invited to present the award. But why the honour had been granted to her and not her brother, Rukia had no idea.
A production assistant appeared in the doorway and informed it was time to go. Rukia heaved a sigh and cast one last longing look at her dressing room. Then she squared her shoulders and confidently walked out of the room. She stopped at the side of the stage and stood there for a moment. Another production assistant handed her the envelope containing the name of the winner, which she gracefully accepted. Then, the host of the gala announced her name to the audience. Schooling a suitably demure expression on her face, she walked out to the spotlight accompanied by the whole large hall’s booming applause.
She stopped at the podium and faced the crowd. There was a host of tables just by the stage, in which sat the notable guests; athletes, coaches, board members of sports associations, politicians, sponsors…
Somewhere in the sea of people sat her brother and his wife, though the thought didn’t offer her much reassurance.
“Our evening and this great gala is drawing to close. There is only one award left to be presented, and it is my great honour to give away the award for the sportsperson of the year. So, without further ado, let’s see who of our great athletes we have as our nominees.”
Rukia stood still as the screens played the pre-taped introductions. A popular baseball player was the first, female figure skater up next, and at last there was the football promise that had been dubbed the young Honda Keisuke.
The video ended, and all eyes in the hall were back on Rukia. She determinedly stamped down the urge to clear her throat. She gracefully opened the envelope in her hands.
“And the award for the best sportsperson of the year goes to – “ she spoke into the microphone, and pulled the card from inside the envelope, taking in the name neatly printed upon it. “Kurosaki Ichigo.”
She set the envelope down on the podium so she could applaud among the rest of the hall while the young man with the wild orange hair made his way up towards the stage. Rukia took small comfort in how he seemed to be just as ill at ease in his tux as she felt to be up here in the spotlight.
He was coming up the steps now, and Rukia picked up the award from the podium and turned away from the audience. The football player stopped in front of her, and Rukia congratulated him, and then offered him the award together with a graceful bow. He seemed somewhat awkward and flustered about it all, but took his prize, his fingers brushing against hers.
Feeling grateful that the centre of attention had shifted from her to Kurosaki-san, Rukia stepped to the side so he could give his acceptance speech.
He was grateful and honoured and thanked his teammates both at the Asian Cup and the ones with whom he had played for the Champions League in Europe as well as his family and friends. Quite the usual pleasantries, but he sounded earnest.
And then, finally, she could retreat back to the obscurity of the back stage. As the host and hostess of the evening wrapped up the gala and thanked all the parties involved and congratulated all the winners, Rukia walked across the stage side by side with Kurosaki Ichigo. Once they were out of sight, Rukia started toward her dressing room. She had only walked a few steps when she suddenly stumbled over a cable that had been stretched out across the floor. To her luck, Kurosaki-san was but a step behind, a professional sportsman with excellent reflexes. Rukia found herself grabbed from behind and felt her back come in contact with his chest before she had even fully realised what was happening. He let her go as soon as he’d make sure she had regained her balance and Rukia turned to him.
“Thank you, Kurosaki-san,” she told him, both grateful and mortified. She wasn’t usually so clumsy.
“No problem,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “and Ichigo’s fine.”
“Well, you’ve certainly earned your award,” she said, the corner of her lips twisting.
His cheeks flushed slightly, and he looked at her almost in awe.
With a polite smile, Rukia turned to leave.
“Ah, Kuchiki-san?”
“Rukia,” she corrected him, turning back to face him.
“Rukia,” he amended, “are you in a hurry home?”
“Maybe,” she frowned. “Why?”
“Well, there’s this after-party and, well…”
“Yes?” she coaxed.
“Maybe you’d like to come?”
She considered the offer for a moment; then flashed him a small smile.
“I’d be delighted.”