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When Sengoku got him, he was no more than a few pounds. A small little thing, with barely any hair covering his body, and hooves that fit in your palm. But he was his now, and that’s all that mattered.
Rosi had wanted one, desperately, his entire childhood and Sengoku had never been able to swing it. He wasn’t high enough in the ranks to be somewhere he could keep a goat, and honestly, he never found out why Rosi wanted one so bad. Until he got his, of course.
It clicked then, when he saw the kid stumble around the office floor, nosing around the greenery. He was so gangly and awkward. In a way, it reminded him of Rosi during his teenage years. With a body growing too fast in some parts than others; leaving him clumsier than usual, much to the disdain of the rest of the crew.
“What are you going to name him, sir?” One of the captains asked, “He’s so small, will he even live long?”
Sengoku scooped the baby goat up then, and with a short bleat it rubbed against his chest. It was small, but that’s fine. After all, everything is small until it grows. Hell , Sengoku thought, Look what happened to Rosi.
“Not sure. I’m sure it will come to me, but for now he’s just a kid, and I’d like to think I’m good with kids.” Sengoku replied walking back to sit at his desk, “If the others have any suggestions, let me know.”
“Of course, sir.” The captain said with a salute and turned out of the room.
Weeks passed and the goat still didn’t acquire a name, though not for lack of trying. Billy. Henry. Theodore. All of them weren’t good enough.
Until, he heard a commander say it: Sengoatku.
It was a joke, a poor one, and when he realized Sengoku heard him all the color drained from his face. Profuse apologies were made, but Sengoku just hummed before laughing.
“Brilliant! Sengoatku,” Sengoku mumbled, with a thoughtful hand stroking his beard, “Sounds like something Rosi would’ve done, honestly.”
After that, it was done. Sengoatku roamed the halls freely, happily munching on what he found, and was greeted with small salutes and rubs on his head. He was beloved quickly and became a sightseeing spot for visiting ranks.
It’s said if he wags his tail at you, you’ll have good luck. Garp has never believed that, given that he usually got a wag every time he went in, and still his grandsons continued to cause him trouble. But all the same, he’s Sengoatku’s favorite (apart from Sengoku), and that’s enough luck on its own.