Konoha's Red Dragon

A cacophony of noise, heart beats like drums, the rushing of blood, the gentle exhales and inhales of the world. Water lapping, wind dancing through leaves and of fire crackling.
That one's her favorite, fire. Still or moving, dead or roaring, it is her favorite. She thinks it's engrained in her very being. In the aching lines drawn into her back, in the blood in her veins and the very air she breaths.
Of course others make it, take from a deep well of energy that wraps along their veins, runs in their blood and breath it out, large, flowing, bellowing swells of orange, red and gold. Hers are purple, shifting shades of a colour she could never hope to name. She likes hers better, but she can admit she's a bit biased.

Missions get busy, but she enjoys the adrenaline, even if she could be killed any moment, but Aki knows that and she doesn't mind that. That's how this world works, and she accepts it, she doesn't expect it to change. She kind of hopes it doesn't, but that's not for her to decide.