She wasn't demure; instead of courtesies and grace, she was trained in the art of swordsmanship. Her upbringing was rough. Stealing, pickpocketing and fighting. She learnt from a tender age about the laws of survival.
On the day, when her favourite orange-haired pulled her aside excitedly, telling her about his proposal to Orihime. Her heart stopped. The words caught in her throat. She clenched her hands and looked into his eyes with much effort.
He gushed on, telling her about what he loved about Orihime.
"Her long hair". Rukia had cut hers after a shopkeeper had managed to grab it and pull her down before smacking her for stealing his stale bread.
"Her soft hands". Her own were calloused and rough after decades of training in the art of the sword.
"Her gentle nature". After Kaien had been devoured by the Hollow, she told herself she would steel her heart, she would not show such feelings so easily again and be so deeply hurt and broken ever again.
She then ran, into the woods. As a tear dripped onto her cheek, she rubbed it off hastily but before long, streams of tears ran down, blurring her vision. She tripped. Her knees scrapped the ground, her face plunged into the dirt. She felt none of that; she curled up, hugging herself tight. Indescribable feelings welled up and she screamed as the tears ran.
In her painfully long life as a Shinigami, never before had she experienced such intense feelings. The rampant mix of frustration, anger, despair, betrayal and sadness engulfed her as she sobbed.
On the day of the wedding, the gorgeous couple exchanged their vows and walked down the aisle together. She smiled despite the ache inside, she smiled despite her heart that threatened to split any moment. She smiled because that was the only way… She could cope with it.