If there was one thing Zoro wanted more than anything, it was for that damn clown, Buggy, and his stupid unicycle riding sidekick to go to hell. And that damn witch, Nami, could follow for all he cared, since said witch failed to mention Buggy's, oh so insignificant devil's fruit ability. Thanks to that omission, Zoro was now nursing a major injury. These matters were only made worse by the fact that the city continued to move its streets while Zoro was trying to meet up with Luffy. Luffy had gotten himself lost, in Zoro's opinion. This caused Zoro to end up in the exact opposite of the place he was supposed to be. Known as Marijoise, the highest caste district was where only the most privileged of the privileged could live- those graced with the luck of high birth raised only on the belief that they were better than everyone else and the pain of those in the castes below them.
At this point, Zoro could only continue to lean heavily against the wall of an alley in between two mansions, bleeding profusely with his sheer force of will keeping him from collapsing into the darkness that swarmed in his vision. So far Zoro had been lucky that he'd not encountered a single soul, but he guessed that at somewhere between midnight and one in the morning most of the members of the highest caste were asleep in the gargantuan mansion in their overpriced and cushy beds; perfectly warm, well fed, and safe. But then again, luck was rarely ever on Zoro's side as the soft clack of footsteps approaching could easily prove.
Zoro easily ran through the most likely outcomes of the situation. One, the person approaching was a night guard for Mariejiose who would most likely arrest Zoro for trespassing on the sacred ground of the highest caste and the beat him near to death and throw him in prison for the simple act of being in the wrong place. Two, the person would still be a night guard and Zoro would thoroughly beat him to a bloody pulp before continuing on his painful journey home. Or three, the person approaching was a Celestial Dragon, a member of the highest caste, who only had to say they wanted Zoro dead and it would happen. None of these outcomes seemed particularly pleasing, but being more than halfway into the alley and not having the time nor the strength to turn back and try to avoid the approaching person, Zoro got as close to the right side of the alley as he could hoping that whomever it was would ignore him as he clung to the shadows.
Soon through the shadows the oncoming figure could just barely be made out by the pure golden locks of his hair. Zoro rolled his eyes in a near imperceptible manner and made a small noise of annoyance under his breath, for the man approaching fit the look of his caste in nearly every way, save for the ridiculous space suits most of the highest caste wore to keep the germs of those underneath them from harming them. The man wore a fashionable suit with a light blue dress shirt underneath that made the hue of his visible eye stand out with an uncanny radiance that rivaled the view of pure ocean water on sunny day. His other eye was hidden but his thick, shiny, golden locks that fell straight and framed his face in an easy effeminate way, yet the stubble on his chin gave away his masculinity. These features made him appear young but not immature as he carried himself with a grace and confidence, not haughty, but more comfortable. His right hand reached out to remove the cigarette held between his lips as he let out a sigh of smoke before crushing what little was left of the object into the ground with the toe of his shoe. The only thing seeming off with the man was the strangely curled eyebrow pointing away from the center of his face off into his hair and the bejeweled gold collar around his neck signifying his lofty place in society.
Zoro leaned lazily on the wall and waited on the man to pass as he came nearer and nearer with even and relaxed footsteps. Zoro shifted his position attempting to cover his own rusty iron collar with his shirt. The man got near enough that he could see him perfectly clear and instantly found Zoro, much to said male's annoyance. He sent the man a murderous glare that screamed for the man to mind his own god damned business and keep moving. Sadly the man didn't heed said warning as he paused for a few mere steps away and frowned thoughtfully and the green haired man.
"Oi, moss-head, you're hurt." The golden haired man said breaking the silence as he noticed the trail of blood Zoro had left from his stroll there and the red that stained Zoro's attire. The man stepped in front of Zoro blocking his path, taking in all the damage Zoro had sustained, and seemed to think.
Zoro made a short sarcastic noise in the back of his throat before asking, "And what's that mean to you, eh, that I'm getting your fucking pretty street all filthy with my blood. Sorry, asshole." He made a move to step around the well dressed stranger but the man just followed his movements easily, not allowing him to gain an inch on him.
"Bastard," the man said before he invaded Zoro's personal space putting them face to face, which caused Zoro to pause with displeasure to notice the man was maybe an inch or two taller than him. "Listen you can either stay out here and let one of the real assholes with the guards find you, or you can suck it up and let someone help you." After that the man took a step back, though still obviously unhappy with the situation, his temper seemed to wane slightly.
At this point the ever calm Zoro's own temper was reaching its final limits as he tried unsuccessfully to figure out just what it was that made this man so insufferable. But, like a switch, Zoro figured it out. This man acted like he had a since of justice, but Zoro was unconvinced. He was certain that just underneath this man's mask was just another stuck up prick that believed himself to be better than anyone else. It irritated Zoro to no end that the man refused to reveal his true self, the haughty celestial dragon his was. Damning the consequences, Zoro decided to push the man, to see if he was right, which he was certain he was. His lips curved up in a cunning sneer as he lowered his shirt to reveal the iron collar he wore, of the lowest caste, which society dubbed the untouchables.
"Wouldn't want you to get those privileged hands of yours dirty," Zoro remarked as he finally pushed the man out of his way while the man seemed to suddenly become very interested in the ground.
Zoro only managed to make it a few steps before a hand, gentle but firm, took hold of his wrist, he turned back aggravated when his eyes connected with one the color of the ocean. What he saw in it confused him; intelligence, kindness, and a strength that rivaled his very own. He soon found himself lost in its depth, being drawn in by an unmovable force. The man lifted Zoro's arm until it was over his own shoulders and then wrapped his unoccupied arm around Zoro's waist to grab his harmarki so that he could support the green haired man. Zoro watched the man growing more curious and intrigued with every action the man took, though careful not to let any emotion become visible on his face.
"You're not dirty, you're just injured, and besides I can always wash my hand after I get you to stop bleeding so badly." The man stated simply as he met Zoro's eyes once more with a confident yet small smile. "I'm Sanji, my house is right over there on the left," he said motioning with his head back the way Zoro had come to a small but ornate door, "I can fix up your wounds there."
Zoro looked down, now it was his turn to be interested in the sidewalk, he'd misjudged the man or so it seemed. "Zoro, Roanoa Zoro is my name." The blonde gave a slight nod of understanding as they started to make their way towards his house.
…
Just a few blocks away a man who resembled a rat wearing a marine uniform looked at the blood trail with a malicious smile. It seemed like someone from one of the lower castes had entered the holy ground, and was injured quite severely. The man licked his lips; this is exactly what he'd been waiting for. It was just the thing to kill the stress and fury he'd built up over the years. According to law, he, as a military man could assault, torture, imprison, and even kill any lower caste citizen who dared step one foot into this sacred place of the highest caste. Yes, he was going to enjoy what was to come.