Sanji stepped outside for a quick smoke behind the restaurant where he worked as an apprentice. He almost dropped his cigarette when he saw a man slumped against the wall, covered in blood and barely alive. Without a word, Sanji went back inside, grabbed some leftovers from the kitchen, and knelt down in front of him.

“Piss off, I don’t need your charity,” Zoro growled, refusing the food. He was a member of the Yakuza, and had just lost a fight, then come here to die. It was pure chance that Sanji happened to step outside at this exact moment.