A posthumous memory flooded back into Sanji's mind. The comments from Pudding-chan faded into a soft muffle, then silence. His final thoughts, …Nami-san… Luffy… Everyone… I'm sorry. You'll have to find another cook. My journey ends here. Then the cold, callous hand of Death rested on his shoulder and proceeded to rip his soul from his body. Sanji felt the strange splitting sensation from his corpse. "I thought I wasn't supposed to feel anything after death," he commented with a grimace. It was a very uncomfortable experience.

"At least you know you're dead," the cloaked figure replied. "That saves me from having to give you the annoyingly mundane explanation." The cook only half-heard. He was too engrossed in staring at his unmoving corpse. The blood from the wound in his chest continued to flow out across the factory floor. "Hey, kid," the man called. "You're not going to want to be here to see the disgusting stuff that happens to the body after death. It ain't pretty!"

Sanji frowned. "Nami-san…" he mumbled. Looking at the shadowy figure, he voiced his concern, "I was going to save Nami-san!"

"Nah, it ain't her time yet," Death replied.

"I can't leave her," Sanji directly stated.

"You want me to kill her?" The figure coldly offered with a laugh. The cook wasn't amused. "You've got an unhealthy devotion to that woman, you know that?" Sanji frowned again and nodded in agreement. The man was right. Not even death could stop him from thinking about her safety.

"Ehh, damnit!" the cloaked figure moaned as it shook its head. "Maybe we can work out some deal with the devil," he explained as he grabbed the blond by the shoulder. "You're lucky I'm a hopeless romantic!"

…

"Diable jambe, huh," a young man with black horns commented while flipping through what looked like a dossier of Sanji's life. He sat behind a large mahogany desk in a darkly lit "office". His jet-black hair was slicked back similar to Yonji's style. Sanji immediately didn't like him. "You could've rested in peace, you know," the devil mused. "What the hell is so important to return back to the shithole of the living?"

"Love," the cook replied.

"Pffftt!" the devil scoffed at him. "Love? What the fuck is that?!" He spun around in his office chair while giggling hysterically. Sanji thought he looked even more like a spoiled brat. Then the devil abruptly stopped to face the cook again. "You know who had it right," he remarked while pointing a slender finger at Sanji. His black fingernails resembled claws. "That Pudding chick!" he exclaimed. "Sentimentality is full of shit! You should've married that bitch, Black Leg Sanji!" He laughed again and added, "But she killed you, so that's kind of the same thing!"

That shitty little… The blond lit a cigarette to calm his temper. Even in the afterlife, he still kept his habits. He took a deep inhale. Assholes like this guy reminded him of the Marimo. They only set out to be dicks and piss people off. "Whatever," Sanji coolly replied, blowing out a stream of smoke. "Are you going to help me or not?"

The devil smirked back at him. "Yeah… I think we can manage something." He snapped his fingers and a contract appeared on the desk in front of him. "You're not going to be your human self again. No one gets that sort of mortal second life," he warned. "But you can go back into your body. You're just going to be a bit… different," he chuckled at the last word.

Raising a curled eyebrow at the little shit, Sanji questioned, "Different how?" Then he glanced down at the contract. "A demon?!" The devil nodded. The cook continued to read out loud, "'… Must feed on the souls of the living at least once a week to maintain health. This is achieved by putting the prey to sleep and biting into the carotid artery. Depending on how strong the prey is, this may cause paralysis or death.' Shit…"

"That's not all of it," the devil darkly commented. His hands were steepled in front of his mouth in amusement.

"'… Must create a partner or apprentice within 3 months of awakening, or…'" Sanji's voice trailed off in horror.

The devil giggled manically. "Trust me, you're going to want to make it her. Otherwise, I'll be keeping her to myself."

"Now look here, you son of a bitch!" Sanji slammed his hands down on the desk. He didn't even have time to blink before his right hand was being scalded by a demonic grip.

"Don't threaten me, Vinsmoke Sanji," a monstrous voice growled at him. The young man's face had transformed into something much more sinister. The fangs alone were enough to terrify anyone. "I wouldn't mind torturing her for eternity just for the hell of it." An unnatural laugh resounded from the evil deity's throat. "I heard she's quite the fiery type. I wonder how long it would take for me to break her."

"Bastard!" Sanji muttered through gritted teeth. He was on his knees now. The pain searing through his hand was beyond unbearable.

"Just sign the damn contract," the devil said. His face was deadly serious. Placing a quill pen into the cook's right hand, he brought the tip down to the signature line of the contract. "Try to fucking prove to me that love lasts forever," the young man challenged. "That is, if she feels the same!" Still in the demon's grasp, Sanji's hand moved to create some resemblance of his signature.

Releasing his grip on the cook's hand, the devil took the contract and rolled it up until it completely disappeared. "Great! Pleasure doing business with you." His face had returned to that of a young man. He grabbed Sanji by the lapel of his groom's suit and shoved with great force to send him flying back to his body. "Have fun transforming! It takes some time…"

…

Blue eyes opened again to see the night sky above him. Sanji was lying on his back on the deck of the ghost ship. His arms and legs were spread out in a corpse pose. "How long did it take?" he questioned. His voice had an unnaturally dark tone to it now.

"About a year," Death replied. "Your crew found All Blue in your honor. They gave you a burial at sea." He chuckled, "That's why it took so long for you to transform. You were pretty decomposed by then. You almost resembled that musician."

"Brook," Sanji corrected him and frowned. "So did they find another cook?"

"Do you really want to know?" the shadowy figure quipped.

"No." Sanji answered. Stiffly moving his limbs, he got to his feet. Looking at his right hand, he surveyed the burn scar. "So that's where that came from," he commented absentmindedly. He looked to the dark man again, "How long do I have to find a partner?"

"Three months from today," the cloaked figure said with a laugh. "Aren't you going to choose that cat burglar?"

"I could never harm a woman," the cook reaffirmed his code. "That especially includes killing Nami-san."

"She'll meet a fate much worse than that if you don't pick her," Death warned.

Sanji paused. That was very true. "Well…" he reasoned, "I'll have to at least discuss it with her first."