Disclaimer: I don't own Yu Yu Hakusho
It seemed that, while she danced, Yukina spun liquid silver from her fingertips and frosted the ground with every step. Her movements were light, airy and graceful. Bare feet skimmed the grass, gliding in time with her softly swaying hips and petite hands tracing arcs in the cool evening air.
Kuwabara watched from the steps, transfixed by every facet of her - from the almost sad, wistful smile on her face, to the way the sleeves of her kimono slipped back to reveal her frail wrists. But Yukina was anything but frail. Kuwabara knew that she was a survivor, a fighter if need be. But mostly she was just the kind of person whose fondest wish was simple, just to be able to be here for another day, to watch the sun lift itself over the horizon, to hear the sounds of people just living, just being.
Sometimes, Kuwabara forgot that she was a demon. Maybe it was most of the time. And when he did remember - when he could recall that she would outlive him by a long time, that she was centuries old already, it saddened him. So he looked past it, and saw her for the human she liked to be. Yukina was the only demon (besides Kurama, who he thought probably didn't count as a demon at all, anyways) Kuwabara knew who didn't mind the presence of humans in the slightest. Sure, large crowds made her nervous, but that was easily remedied by Kuwabara lifting her onto his broad shoulders so she could sail through the world above everyone else. He thought this was her proper place, anyways, above everyone else.
Yukina danced to mourn, he knew as well. To diligently respect and honor the passing of the winter, and of the Koorime. Her dance was one of grieving, a way to cherish those who had come before, in a way special to her. That was why Kuwabara loved her.
Yukina never forgot a kind thing. She remembered the good deeds done to her - little things, like Yuusuke offering her his arm for support as the leapt over a pool of water in the path after a rain, or Genkai brewing her tea and holding a vigil by her bedside during the hot summer months when she often took ill. She also remembered the painful, awful things, the things Kuwabara might not even wish on his worst enemy. The teargem dealer, the death of her brother - they settled like a blanket over her shoulders, and she danced to relieve that burden, if only for a little while.
Kuwabara wanted nothing more than to protect her from any more burdens.