After lunch.
The laboratory door opened a crack.
A shadowy gaze peered inside.
Then a small gray-scaled snake slipped silently through the gap.
It slithered along the base of the wall, weaving between bottles of disinfectant alcohol and glass beakers, slowly climbed a leg of the lab bench, and finally settled beside Maki's hand.
It was Orochimaru's reconnaissance snake.
It held a folded note in its mouth.
The paper was faintly smeared with snake saliva and steeped in the pungent smell of formalin peculiar to the laboratory.
Maki raised a hand and gently unfolded the note.
The handwriting belonged to Orochimaru.
[I hear Tsunade is using combinatorics to exhaustively test antidote formulas for Ibuse's venom. Far too inefficient.]
[Here is a breakdown of Hanzō's venom, including a full set of spectral analysis data on the secretions from Ibuse's poison gland.]
[Also, the old man has approved Tsunade's proposal to build a complete medical ninja system.]
[Apparently, the staggering losses on the battlefield finally shook him enough to give his approval.]
[This project dwarfs all the previously shelved proposals combined. Tsunade will soon be run off her feet.]
[If you are interested, you can join her. You have seen firsthand how deadly the gaps in medical care in the Land of Rain are. I need not say more.]
There was no signature at the bottom.
But none was needed.
In all of Konoha, only Orochimaru would use that tone and employ a snake as his personal messenger.
And pack useful information, mockery, and veiled concern into a simple intelligence report.
Every time Maki read one of his messages, he wanted to thank him and complain at the same time.
Maki carefully refolded the note, then handed it to Tsunade beside him.
"A message from Orochimaru, with a breakdown of Hanzō's venom