A short back story on how Sanji and Zoro came to meet.
It wasn't surprising to Sanji that they'd fired him. His skills with people were non-existent and his temper almost always got the best of him. His employer wasn't even sorry to see him go, Sanji was sure of that. He wasn't the kind of person you wanted to keep around long.
Sanji moved briskly down the street. He wasn't sure where he was going, or even where he was now, but he knew for a fact he needed to keep moving.
Being fired didn't bother Sanji, and the looks of relief that he'd seen on his coworkers faces didn't bother him either. He was used to them, he'd received the same look from a hundred different faces that had all blurred together by now.
To say he wasn't a people person was an understatement. He despised people. They might have looked at him like there was something wrong with him, but they were the sick ones. He didn't trust them, he hated listening to them, and he never got close to them. The only human beings he'd ever been able to tolerate had died long ago, and now he preferred his solitude.
He faked it. He tried to pretend he was normal. He went out after work for drinks, he chatted with strangers in the bar, and he even made "friends". But he never trusted any of them. He never even liked them. It was an act, some semblance of normalcy to keep people from questioning him. They left him alone more often if they thought he had a friend. He wasn't as weird if he spent some time out with people.
But he hated them. No, that wasn't right. He didn't despise them, and he didn't hate them. To hate someone, you had to have established some kind of emotion for them. Sanji didn't feel emotions for people, unless it was annoyance, they mattered less to him than the grass growing up between the cracks of the sidewalk. He didn't hate them; he didn't have any feelings for them at all. They were pointless to him, they didn't matter at all.
He picked his way down an empty street. He had no idea what time it was or where he'd gotten himself lost at. The surrounding buildings didn't look familiar. Not that it mattered. Without a job Sanji would find it difficult to pay his rent. Maybe it was time to move on anyway. It wasn't as if he held any attachments here. The "friends" he'd made were bonds that could be easily severed. There was no need for a note, a phone call, or a message. He'd just disappear from their lives and he doubted they'd even spend very long scratching their heads over what had become of him.
It wouldn't be the first time Sanji had left without warning, and it wouldn't be the last, he knew.
A whimper of pain pulled him from his thoughts. He paused curiously, back tracking a few steps and peering down the dark alley the noise had come from.
A man stood there, though Sanji could make out little more than the silhouette. The man was Sanji's height and broad, muscular. He was towering over a crumpled figure on the ground, a figure that shifted slightly before letting out another pained cry.
Curious, Sanji moved closer, stepping into the shadowed alleyway for a closer look. With the moon overhead he was just barely able to make out the appearances of the people in the alley. The first thing he noticed was the blood; an almost overwhelming amount of it splattered along the walls, dripping from the long knife in the man's hand, and pooling beneath the figure on the ground.
The man standing was sprayed in it as well, splatters of blood dotted along his clothing and skin. There was nowhere near as much on him as the person on the ground, a woman, Sanji discovered upon closer inspection. A woman with short, dark hair and a pair glasses that were cracked and broken.
"What happened?" Sanji asked. He was curious, which was strange for him. It was a feeling he knew very little about. He wasn't used to feeling anything but disinterest or irritation when it came to other people.
"H-help me," The woman on the ground choked out. She let out a wet cough, choking on the blood that had filled her lungs, probably. "Please."
Sanji made no move to help her as the blood splattered man above her swung out his blade and cut through her throat. She crumpled to the ground, lifeless and unmoving. She was out of her misery now.
Sanji surveyed the man. Beneath the blood he was splashed with, he had obnoxiously green hair and dark eyes, eyes that appeared almost black as they stared down at the victim at his feet. He didn't look remorseful or sorry in the slightest. He looked relaxed, at ease, as if he'd just released a great deal of tension.
"She was an innocent woman," Sanji reprimanded. He didn't particularly care very much for people, but women tended to be friendlier to him than men. That, and of course no matter what he still had urges, and women were usually very obliging. All in all, if he cared about anyone, he'd care about women.
"She was," The man replied, his voice level, calm. He didn't sound angry or upset, he was just agreeing with the simple statement.
"Did you know her?" Sanji wondered.
"I did," The man turned to look at him for the first time. They dark eyes settled on him momentarily before looking back down at the body lying at his feet. "She was my girlfriend."
That was not, to Sanji's knowledge, how people usually chose to break up with their girlfriends. "What happened?"
Sanji wasn't sure why he was so curious. Never in his life, or at least not since he was very young, had he ever actually wanted to make conversation with another person. He'd never actually cared much about the answers to the questions he sometimes asked. They were a means of casual conversation, a way to appear interested. Now though, he felt the unfamiliar burn of curiosity spinning through his head, pulling the questions out of him almost against his will.
"I got tired of her," The man replied with a shrug.
Sanji looked down at the girl again. It seemed a sad way to go, like the way you'd treat an old dog you didn't want anymore.
"What are you going to do now?"
The man turned to look at him again. He looked just as intrigued by the blonde as Sanji was by him. Of course, he probably wasn't used to being questioned by people who had just watched him commit murder, but Sanji wasn't bothered by such things one way or another.
The man looked away from him again and shrugged once more, pushing lightly at the body below him with his foot.
"Bury her, I guess," He told Sanji.
Sanji watched the body move under the green haired man's foot. The woman was fairly short, but even so it seemed like a lot of work for once person. Not to mention he felt like there was some better use for her.
"Seems like a waste," Sanji mused out loud.
"Did you have a better plan?" The man asked. There was an emotion in his tone now, exasperation perhaps, and though Sanji felt strange for thinking so, he kind of liked it.
"Well if you'd let me," Sanji smiled, a genuine smile that felt foreign but comfortable all at once. "I'd love to cook you dinner."
The green haired man, Zoro, as he'd introduced himself, smiled back at him. It was a smile Sanji found he actually liked, sincere and warm, and it was a smile that eventually Sanji would never want to lose.