The official notice arrived with the regular supply ship.
Soren read it standing in the harbor office, still holding the clipboard the supply officer had handed him. His eyes moved down the list of names once, then again.
Vice Admiral Gion. Vice Admiral Tokikake. Vice Admiral Garp. Aide: Bogard.
He blinked.
Then he read it a third time to make sure he had not started hallucinating from too much sun.
"You've got to be kidding me," he muttered under his breath.
The supply officer glanced over. "Something wrong, Commodore?"
"Just Headquarters being Headquarters." Soren signed for the rest of the supplies with a blank expression, tucked the notice under his arm, and left before anyone could ask follow-up questions.
He walked back to the residence at a normal pace. On the outside he looked calm. On the inside he was already composing the strongest complaint of his Marine career.
The moment the door shut behind him he dropped into the chair, slapped the notice onto the desk, opened the diary, and started writing like the book had personally offended him.
[Day twenty-six.]
[I just received the official notice and I need a moment.]
[Headquarters is sending Gion, Tokikake, Garp, and Bogard for a "supervision and review" of Sema. Three vice admirals and the human embodiment of silence. For my quiet little archipelago. I have kept this place running so smoothly that the most exciting incident last month was a roof leak, and somehow that earned me a visit from the heavy artillery.]
[Let us review the cast of characters, shall we?]
[First up: Garp the Fist. Also known as the Hero of the Marines, professional mountain puncher, and walking natural disaster. The man treats justice like a contact sport and senbei like a food group. I respect the legend. I also value my ribs. If he decides to "test" the local forces I am going to need a recovery budget.]
[Next: Gion. Momousagi. The swordswoman who probably alphabetizes her threat assessments. Clean, sharp, and the type to notice if a single militia bootlace is out of regulation. If she is leading this review then they are not here for a friendly tour. They are here to look closely.]
[Tokikake. Chaton. The Simp King. I give it ten minutes before he starts telling a story about himself that somehow loops back to how impressive he is. Entertaining? Probably. Useful for my blood pressure? Less so.]
[And finally Bogard, Garp's shadow. The man has the emotional range of a locked filing cabinet and the observational skills of a surveillance snail. He will stand there saying nothing while judging my entire career with his eyes. I both respect it and find it deeply unsettling.]
[Something about this whole thing feels off. Quiet territories are supposed to be ignored. That is the entire point of doing the job well. You keep your islands stable so Headquarters forgets you exist and leaves you alone. Instead I get the legendary fist, the future admiral candidate, the Simp, and the silent judgment machine.]
[Either someone higher up is impressed and wants a closer look, or someone is suspicious and wants a closer look. I am not betting money on the friendly version yet.]
[Practical concerns: Garp's presence is terrifying and tempting at the same time. The man is a monster. If I can get some help with Haki training out of him without becoming a live demonstration dummy, it would save me months of work. Knowing my luck he will call punching me through a wall "mentorship."]
[Gion is the real threat to my peaceful life. She does not seem like the type who misses details. Tokikake will talk enough for everyone. Bogard will say nothing and still make me feel like I am failing an inspection I did not study for.]
[Plan: keep the islands exactly as they are. Clean reports. Clean docks. Competent militia. Polite smile. Do not give them any excuse to dig past the surface. Also stock senbei. If I can distract the Hero of the Marines with snacks I am doing it. Dignity is optional. Survival is not.]
[If this ends with me getting dragged to Marineford for permanent desk duty I am going to write a very strongly worded diary entry about every merchant who ever thanked me for the fast berthing process.]
Soren put the pen down and stared at the page.
Then he laughed once, short and disbelieving.
"Three vice admirals," he said to the empty room. "I kept the crime rate low and this is the thanks I get."
He stood up, grabbed his coat, and headed for the door. The harbor master needed a heads-up. The militia captains needed a heads-up. The bakery needed an emergency order of senbei.
Sema was about to receive guests who did not know how to visit quietly, and Soren had no intention of letting the place look unprepared.
In Marineford, Gion sat at her desk with the diary open.
She had felt the new entry arrive the moment he started writing. By now the sensation was familiar. She read through the entire page once, then again more slowly.
Her eyes paused on the nicknames.
"Professional mountain puncher." "Walking natural disaster." "The one who probably alphabetizes her threat assessments." "The Simp." "The human embodiment of silence."
A very faint breath of amusement left her.
She rested one finger on the line about her being the real threat to his peaceful life and read it twice.
"He is suspicious," she said quietly to the empty study. "And not entirely wrong."
The goofball tone of the entry was clearer than usual today. Sarcasm, exaggeration, open complaint, and underneath it a sharp practical mind already calculating how to manage the visit. He had even planned the senbei.
Gion closed the diary and looked at the official copy of the supervision order on her desk.
She had pushed for this review. She had written the reports that made Sengoku pay attention. Watching the subject of those reports react in real time with this much personality was… informative.
She opened the book again and reread the section about Garp and Observation Haki notes.
"He wants training knowledge from Garp," she murmured. "Ambitious. And reckless."
The corner of her mouth lifted for the briefest moment before her expression settled again.
Five days until departure.
She was looking forward to seeing whether the man on the page matched the commodore on the island.