Ling all but charged into Tobirama Senju's makeshift "laboratory." Calling it a laboratory was generous; it was more like a corner of a storeroom crammed with flickering Sealing Arrays and scattered scrolls. The air held a pungent blend of old ink and lingering chakra. His chest still rose and fell from his sprint, but he had no patience for formalities. He poured out everything about the white snake he had encountered that afternoon, along with his suspicions.
"...It was right there, watching me-no, watching the unfinished Formula in my hand! There was definitely something wrong with that look! And that chakra felt like Orochimaru's. I couldn't mistake it!" Ling spoke with an urgency he did not even notice, as though desperately trying to prove something.
With his back to Ling, Tobirama was bent over a complex Formula on the floor, adjusting it. Silver-blue light washed over his expressionless profile. Only after Ling finished did he slowly straighten and brush nonexistent dust from his hands.
"Understood." That was all he said, as casually as if he had heard there would be an extra dish at dinner.
Ling's breath caught in his chest, almost choking him. "...Understood? That's... that's it?" he repeated incredulously. This was worlds away from any reaction he had imagined-wariness, preparations, even a simple "tighten security."
"What else?" Tobirama finally turned. His red eyes were placid, holding only an almost ruthless clarity. "Orochimaru coveting the Beacon was to be expected. His greed for unknown techniques and power hasn't changed in decades." He approached Ling, his gaze settling between Ling's brows, as though he could see through skin and flesh to the faintly warm Beacon inside. "The fact that you only noticed now means his earlier movements were sufficiently discreet. Now that he's allowed you to notice, it means... he's