Death Note X Wreck-It Ralph ~ Canon X Canon

Ryuuzaki X Vanellope von Schweetz

~Part 1

Vanellope's cart buzzed cheerily through the town of Sugar Rush. It was nostalgic passing through here, she thought, gazing with a fond smile at the stands surrounding the start and finish lines of the races. A few candy-fans hung around on the bleachers, mingling and chattering in their high-pitched voices. In Vanellope's mind, however, the stands were as packed as they'd been on the day of her first official race.

It had been weird, she remembered, her cart coasting smoothly along the path to her hidden-away abode, but it had been completely awesome. The Cybugs, Turbo's defeat, the beacon Ralph had made using the Diet Cola Hot Springs – all of it had been wicked! And then Ralph had helped her to cross the finish line and reset the entire game. She'd become Princess of Sugar Rush – President after arcade hours – and Turbo was finally done for.

Vanellope drove through the arch formed by two sugar-free lollipops, zipping straight from there to her home in Diet Cola Mountain. She couldn't help but grin to herself at how great that day had been. She'd even gotten to keep her home in the mountain. Ralph had smashed the Mentos roof to bits to make the beacon for the Cybugs, but when Vanellope crossed the finish line, the entire game reset – including the state of her hideout.

Of course, though, what President wouldn't want to hang out in an awesome Candy Palace every now and then? Vanellope did on a regular basis, chatting it up with the Donut Police and training the Devil Dogs to chase after gumballs. Sour Bill wasn't even all that bad once you'd gotten to know him, Vanellope had decided. But in the evenings, she preferred to return to her old place as opposed to staying in the castle. Sure, the Palace was pretty and glittery and all that, but nothing was quite as homey as her dwelling in the mountain.

After parking her cart near her home, Vanellope flopped backwards onto her sponge cake bed, sighing contentedly and staring at the ceiling. It had been so long since she'd been returned to her rightful position as ruler of Sugar Rush. She wasn't the spunky little girl she'd been before – well, not after the arcade closed, anyway. She still appeared the same as she'd been years ago to Sugar Rush players: aqua-green hoodie, matching leggings, brown skirt, black boots, black mop of hair tied back with licorice and covered in sprinkles. But after arcade hours, she was her true self, which had now become a teenager. She still tied her black hair into a high ponytail with licorice, and she'd always been fond of the sprinkle look. But she wasn't as short as when gamers saw her. In fact, she'd reached a height of 5 feet and 4 inches, the last she'd checked – not super-tall, but tall enough for her. She was thin and fit from running around the Candy Cane Forests in her free time. She'd changed her clothing as well: the hoodie was white with aqua stripes down the sides, almost like a track jacket, and she'd ditched the skirt completely, opting for pants to match her hoodie. The black boots stayed, though – she liked how they stood out against her light clothing, and matched her dark hair.

She sat up in her bed, opened her mouth, and yawned noisily. It had been a long day. A big group of kids in the arcade had decided to start up a Sugar Rush tournament, and of course whatever player had chosen Vanellope was the one to win the most races – and thus race the most. She laughed tiredly. It was tough to be a victor, she thought with a grin. But it was fun.

Vanellope kicked off her sneakers and pulled off her tracksuit to reveal her lounge wear, a white tank top with aqua shorts. Peeling off her socks, she lay flat on the bed again, letting her uncovered skin cool off.

"It's the life," she said aloud, her sentence ending in another pleasant sigh. Then she rolled onto her side, pulling an old candy wrapper over herself. It was worn and fuzzy on the edges, just as soft as any blanket. Vanellope reached up above her head to turn off her bedroom lamp and curled up beneath the wrapper.

Then her smile faded as her eyes drifted closed. The same words left her mouth, but with a much different feeling behind them.

"It's the life…"

"So when can we expect results on this… test, L?"

"Please call me Ryuuzaki, Midori."

"Y-yes sir… But the results-"

A heavy sigh. "Being a detective requires some patience, Midori. You'll have to trust that I am taking proper action."

"So you don't-?"

"I can't tell you when exactly we'll have results simply because I ordered action." Another sigh, smaller. "I'd estimate that we'll have them within three weeks."

"Three weeks?"

"Yes. Now please, if you don't mind…"

"O-of course, Eh—Ryuuzaki."

The young apprentice detective made a stiff beeline towards the door and exited quickly. The man called Ryuuzaki pressed a single fingertip to the spot directly between his eyebrows.

"Midori…" he muttered under his breath.

He was known to some as L, to some as De Neuve, and to others as Eraldo Coil, but to colleagues he was Ryuuzaki. Nobody in the world other than he and his assistant, Watari, knew his actual name. But he wasn't about to confide that with anyone new. No, he decided with a slight snort – if anyone was truly curious they'd have to figure out his name themselves.

Not that he expected them to be able to do that. As far as he knew, only he truly knew how his own name could be deducted from practically nothing.

Ryuuzaki, a man of many names, was not your average detective. He was renowned for his almost insanely accurate tactics and deductions. Many a police officer called and requested his assistance, but more than often each was simply ignored or politely turned down. (The latter was the case only when Ryuuzaki decided to actually answer the telephone.) L didn't pursue a case unless he took strong interest in it, and it wasn't all too often that such a case was present. Usually he sat around staring at his laptop, reading about less significant issues in the world and determining potential solutions or causes with ease. On occasion, after coming across such answers, he'd telephone the police station of the corresponding area and inform them of his solutions, always making sure to use his infamous voice scrambler.

Though he didn't like to admit it, even to himself, sometimes he made calls just as an excuse to scramble his voice and hear the result. Now, the thought made him smirk briefly, even as a headache throbbed beneath his shaggy black hair.

Sighing yet again, Ryuuzaki stretched his arms, reaching down to his bare toes – which weren't all that far away considering that he had his knees pulled up to his chest in his chair. After rubbing his eyes exhaustedly, he returned his hands to his kneecaps and stared directly ahead of himself in thought. A television with a news reporter babbling about the popularity of some arcade game was right in his line of sight, but it was as though L was looking straight through the screen. Had anybody been there to see him, they would have known that this guy was doing some serious thinking. And, well, they would have been right.

Because L did not think about loneliness except for on the rare occasion – and now, being a rare occasion, his thoughts were certainly of a serious nature.

Being as renowned as he was, Ryuuzaki had decided long ago that he'd have to stay away from the dating scene. He would be engaged to his work, to putting his insanely adept brain to use tracking down the world's most infamous criminals. The thing was, the only people he ever interacted with were police and secret service agents. Sure, there were women here and there throughout the forces, but they were all a good six years older than him, give or take a few.

Ryuuzaki had also decided long ago that he wouldn't date anybody five years older than him or more—that is, if he were to date anybody, which was highly unlikely given the fact that his occupation had pulled him into seclusion and secrecy and that he wouldn't find anybody of the right… sort… to keep him company.

He couldn't help but give a sad, quiet moan as he stared in the direction of the
TV. And who'd want to keep the company of someone like me? he thought forlornly. My every day is devoted to bringing justice to the world…there wouldn't be much room for catering to a female's needs, or wants, for that matter…

Lost in his thoughts, Ryuuzaki barely noticed Watari enter the room from behind him and place a silver tray on a side table near the chair. The older man watched the younger for a few moments, wondering what he was thinking now.

"Watari." The deep yet mellow voice of the young man was barely audible, and yet it made his assistant straighten a little where he stood.

"Yes, Ryuuzaki?"

L didn't respond at first, just continued staring towards the television, his tired eyes looking as though they were stuck being wide open – though Watari knew that this was partially because of the eyeliner on his lower lids. The older man shifted a little, but stood patiently behind Ryuuzaki's chair, awaiting the detective's words.

Then the young man's shaggy head turned to face him, the dark eyes still unblinking. But Watari sensed that those eyes were seeking something, and not finding it. Regardless, he tilted his head respectfully in Ryuuzaki's direction.

"I want to… go out."

Watari adjusted his spectacles. "Go out?"

"Yes." The dark eyes stared off to the side for a moment. "Out, into the city."

This wasn't what the detective's assistant had expected at all. Usually when L said "Watari" as he had just now, it was to request that something be done or made, and Watari would always be ready to oblige. He respected the young man greatly. But this wasn't like him at all. L was always so solitary, so closed off to the world, or at the very least that was how he usually behaved. Now he wanted to leave his own stomping grounds – or rather, crouching grounds, one could say – for the city, of all places? What was going through his head?

He was still gazing off to the side when Watari spoke. "Erm… Ryuuzaki, may I be so bold as to ask why you want to do something like that?"

Ryuuzaki's eyes met his assistant's once again. "I want to be… around people."

"Around… people," Watari repeated blankly.

"Yes."

"I'm afraid I don't quite understand what you're getting at."

"Watari, I spend the majority of my time alone, or surrounded by people that only want me to help solve problems. They are not here to keep me company, and I'm not expressing anger towards them. I'm merely stating that they're here to do their job, and that is what they do. I respect that. However, I find myself in need of... company."

"Are you implying that you're l…lonesome, Ryuuzaki?" Watari stumbled a little over the word, never having expected to say it in reference to this particular man.

L's gaze seemed to sharpen. "Yes."

"Ah…"

Ryuuzaki scratched his head briefly, lowering his gaze to the silver tray that his assistant had placed next to him. A bowl of strawberries rested there, and he plucked one out, spinning it slowly by its stem only inches from his face. "Your confusion is perfectly understandable," he said, shifting his feet a little on his chair. "I am slightly confused myself."

"Beg pardon?"

"Regardless," Ryuuzaki persisted, "on this single occasion, I'd like to take a day off. I'd like to go into town and be surrounded by people for a day. After that, I can return to work as usual, and I'll have had enough social… interaction to last me for some time." He paused. "Most likely about five to six months… give or take a few days."

Watari stifled a chortle. At the very least, he knew this was the same Ryuuzaki he'd known all along. He could think about whatever he wanted, but at the same time, he never stopped calculating or deducting. "I shall notify the task force," Watari said with a deep nod. "What will you require for transportation?"

A strange, small smile formed on the detective's face. "Nothing."

Watari raised an eyebrow, but didn't protest. He trusted that however strange Ryuuzaki's ideas were, he had good reason behind them. "Very well."

The dark eyes blinked once, the equivalent of an appreciative nod. "Thank you. Good night," said the detective.

"Good night, Ryuuzaki." The assistant turned and moved towards the door. He had only just touched the handle when L called him again.

"Oh, and Watari?"

The old man turned his head to see that Ryuuzaki was once again staring towards the television screen. "Yes?"

"Please refrain from informing the task force of my reasons for going out."

Watari smiled to himself, facing the door once again and turning the handle silently. "As you wish."

After he heard the door shut quietly behind him, Ryuuzaki allowed himself to tip backwards from his crouching position. His legs fell down and for a moment, he looked like any normal, tired person, limp and exhausted in his chair. Now, as he stared at the television, what he saw registered in his mind.

A newscaster was standing near a large, arcade-style car racing game, his broad grin obviously forced – unlike the children that crowded around the person playing the game. They wore awestruck smiles on fascinated faces.

"Hmm." Ryuuzaki scratched his shaggy head before pressing his thumb to his lips in thought. This game has generated an increasing amount of excitement among children, he noted. What is it about it that makes it so intriguing, I wonder?

"As you can see here," the newscaster was saying, "kids are developing a sweet tooth for Sugar Rush, even several years after…"

The man drawled on and on, but Ryuuzaki had tuned him out and was watching the screen of the game console. On it, a small racing cart, driven by a young-looking, animated girl, was zooming along a path that wound through a world made entirely of candy. As the child controlling the game progressed in the race, Ryuuzaki saw trees that were patterned like candy canes, and hills that looked like gumdrops and truffles.

Subconsciously, the detective pulled his knees to his chest again and reached for a second strawberry. He stared thoughtfully at the fruit before taking a large bite, murmuring to himself, "This looks like my kind of game."