Soren called the harbor master, the senior militia captains, and the head of the bakery into the small meeting room the next morning.
He dropped the official notice on the table.
"Read it."
The attendees took the notice on the table and read it seriously.
"Three vice admirals," the harbor master said slowly. "And 'Marine Hero' Garp."
"Yes." Soren leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "They will be here in a few days for a supervision and review. I want the docks clean, the records clean, the militia looking sharp but not like they are putting on a parade, and enough senbei in stock."
One of the captains cleared his throat. "Sir, is this bad?"
"I have no idea. That is why we are preparing." Soren tapped the paper. "Keep everything running the way it already does. If they want to find problems, they will have to dig for them."
The bakery head raised a hand. "How much senbei are we talking?"
"As much as you can handle. It will be a gift for him. The budget will come from me."
They left with clear tasks. Soren stayed behind for a moment, staring at the notice again.
"Four vice admirals," he muttered. "I kept the crime rate low and this is the reward."
He spent the rest of the morning walking the main dock and the eastern militia post. The captains were already adjusting rotation schedules. The harbor crew had started clearing unnecessary crates from the main pier.
At midday he stopped by the school and spoke with the head teacher.
"We might have visitors from Headquarters in a few days. High ranking. If they walk past, just keep the lessons going. There is no need to make the children perform."
The teacher nodded. "Understood, Commodore."
"And if any of them ask the kids what they think of the Marines, please steer the conversation toward literacy. I do not need philosophical debates from eight year olds right now."
The teacher smiled. "I will do my best."
That evening Soren sat at his desk and opened the diary.
[Day twenty seven.]
[Preparation day. I called in the harbor master, the captains, and the bakery. Yes, the bakery. I am already planning to ask Garp for guidance. A little gift should be prepared.]
[I told them the truth. Four vice admirals are coming. I want the place clean and functional. Honestly, I have no idea why the HQ is sending such a loaded lineup. Even if the Archipelago is well maintained, it should not have alerted them this much.]
[I walked the docks and the eastern post. Everything looks the way it should. That is both comforting and stressful. Comforting because the systems work. Stressful because now I have to hope the systems look impressive enough to three people who have seen the entire Grand Line.]
[Part of me still thinks this is excessive. Another part of me is already planning how to ask Garp about Haki. Observation is consistent now but still shallow. Armament is nowhere. My body can take the strain. I know that much. If I can get even a few real pointers from him without becoming a live training dummy, it would save me months. The part of me making this plan is clearly an idiot, but it refuses to shut up.]
[I told the school not to make the children perform. The last thing I need is a choir of kids singing about justice while Garp is eating senbei in the front row.]
Soren closed the book, then opened it again and added one more line.
[If this visit goes well I am taking a full day off. If it goes badly I am still taking a full day off. Either way I win.]
He put the pen down and looked out the window toward the dark harbor.
"Just keep it normal," he said to himself. "Normal is what we do best."
Two days later, in Marineford, Gion stood on the deck of the assigned ship while the last crates were loaded. Tokikake leaned against the railing beside her, already in full travel coat.
"You know," he said, "most supervision visits do not require this much quiet intensity from you. Should I be worried?"
"No."
"That answer was too fast."
Gion did not answer. She was thinking about the latest diary entry she had read the night before. The commodore had ordered senbei specifically to gift Garp. He had told the school not to make the children perform. He was nervous, sarcastic, and still completely focused on keeping his territory steady.
She found the combination more interesting than she had expected.
The ship cast off on schedule. Garp was already somewhere below deck, probably looking for the snack stores. Bogard stood near the stern in silence, as usual.
Gion rested one hand on the railing and watched Marineford shrink behind them.
In a few days she would finally see whether the voice on the page matched the man on the island.