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Entry tags:
[999] Cross-Correspondence
Title: Cross-Correspondence
Fandom: 9 Hours, 9 Persons, 9 Doors
Pairing: Akane/Junpei
Rating: G
Word Count: 838 words
Notes: MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE TRUE ENDING.
Summary: Junpei gets an interesting valentine.
There was a package waiting for Junpei when he got home. For a moment, he stood in the doorway and stared at it, unsure of how it could have come to be lying there on the his table. Probably the his landlady, he decided, grimacing slightly at the thought of her poking around in his business yet again. Most of the time he found her grandmotherly concern sort of touching, but sometimes it bordered on annoying. He let the door slip shut behind him, shrugging out of his jacket and shoes before walking over to the low table and sitting down to examine the package.
He didn't think he'd been expecting anything in the mail. Maybe his mom had decided to send him something? The lack of a return address was a little weird, but otherwise it looked like a normal cardboard box, a little scuffed around the edges from its trip through the loving hands of the postal service. And that was definitely his name and address on the front. "What the hell," Junpei muttered with a shrug, and started to tear off the tape.
It was only when he brushed aside the packing peanuts inside to reveal a square metal box fitted with a digital display screen and a familiar-looking numerical keypad that he suddenly remembered that his landlady was out of town this week visiting her daughter. So much for his theory about how the package had gotten into his apartment.
Gingerly, and with a sneaking suspicion he knew who the sender was, Junpei lifted the metal box out of its styrofoam next and placed it onto the table. Each side was about fifteen centimeters, and it was surprisingly heavy. The keypad and display screen seemed to be on the lid of the box, though there was no handle or clasp visible to suggest how it was to be opened. Trying to wiggle the lid back and forth did nothing. The display screen lit up when he pressed a button on the keypad, revealing enough space for a four-digit code to be entered.
"Which would be great if I had any idea what the code was," Junpei said to himself. He rummaged through the packing peanuts in search of some sort of clue. As he brushed them to the side, he caught a glimpse of something red at the bottom of the box. No -- on the bottom of the box. Not caring about the mess, he dumped the peanuts onto the floor. There, scrawled in red paint on the cardboard, was a heart.
After thinking for a moment, he turned back to the box, and entered in 3645, followed by E. With a little electronic beep, the lid of the box slid open. Junpei reached inside and pulled out a letter written on pick stationary and what looked like a bag of homemade chocolates. A surge of warmth went through him, and he found himself smiling helplessly as he unfolded the letter.
Dear Jumpy, he read, Happy Valentines Day! Did I surprise you? You know, sending messages anywhere in the world is really easy these days. Modern technology's pretty impressive in that regard. But then again, maybe we've never needed technology to convey information.
Have you heard of the Laurel Wreath incident? It's supposed to be an example of what's called "cross-correspondence." In the early twentieth century, a prominent psychical researcher named Frederick Meyers died. Soon afterwards, mediums he'd known while alive all started to receive messages they felt were from Meyers. For example, one medium recorded the word "laurel" over and over and again, while another was told by Meyer's spirit that he had left a third medium a laurel wreath. That third medium kept writing about Apollo's laurel bough and crowns of laurels. There were many other incidents like this relating to Meyers' spirit. Do you think the mediums were picking up on something of Meyers that had survived his physical death? Or were they somehow influencing each other?
Either way, I'm glad I have a more reliable way to send you chocolates! I hope you like them. I've never made chocolates before, and Aoi said I should have just bought you some instead if I really wanted to send you something. But I've always wanted to make chocolates for the boy I love, so I did my best. I'll even forgive you for not being able to send me anything for White Day, since that's kind of my fault and all.
Love,
Akane
Junpei stared at the letter for a long moment, then put his head down on the table and started to laugh. He wasn't sure why. Maybe because of the absurdity of the whole situation. Maybe out of relief that she was okay and had contacted him. Either way, it was a while before he could sit up and wipe the tears from his eyes. "Love you too, Kanny," he said quietly, trusting that wherever she was, whatever she was doing, she'd hear him.
Fandom: 9 Hours, 9 Persons, 9 Doors
Pairing: Akane/Junpei
Rating: G
Word Count: 838 words
Notes: MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE TRUE ENDING.
Summary: Junpei gets an interesting valentine.
There was a package waiting for Junpei when he got home. For a moment, he stood in the doorway and stared at it, unsure of how it could have come to be lying there on the his table. Probably the his landlady, he decided, grimacing slightly at the thought of her poking around in his business yet again. Most of the time he found her grandmotherly concern sort of touching, but sometimes it bordered on annoying. He let the door slip shut behind him, shrugging out of his jacket and shoes before walking over to the low table and sitting down to examine the package.
He didn't think he'd been expecting anything in the mail. Maybe his mom had decided to send him something? The lack of a return address was a little weird, but otherwise it looked like a normal cardboard box, a little scuffed around the edges from its trip through the loving hands of the postal service. And that was definitely his name and address on the front. "What the hell," Junpei muttered with a shrug, and started to tear off the tape.
It was only when he brushed aside the packing peanuts inside to reveal a square metal box fitted with a digital display screen and a familiar-looking numerical keypad that he suddenly remembered that his landlady was out of town this week visiting her daughter. So much for his theory about how the package had gotten into his apartment.
Gingerly, and with a sneaking suspicion he knew who the sender was, Junpei lifted the metal box out of its styrofoam next and placed it onto the table. Each side was about fifteen centimeters, and it was surprisingly heavy. The keypad and display screen seemed to be on the lid of the box, though there was no handle or clasp visible to suggest how it was to be opened. Trying to wiggle the lid back and forth did nothing. The display screen lit up when he pressed a button on the keypad, revealing enough space for a four-digit code to be entered.
"Which would be great if I had any idea what the code was," Junpei said to himself. He rummaged through the packing peanuts in search of some sort of clue. As he brushed them to the side, he caught a glimpse of something red at the bottom of the box. No -- on the bottom of the box. Not caring about the mess, he dumped the peanuts onto the floor. There, scrawled in red paint on the cardboard, was a heart.
After thinking for a moment, he turned back to the box, and entered in 3645, followed by E. With a little electronic beep, the lid of the box slid open. Junpei reached inside and pulled out a letter written on pick stationary and what looked like a bag of homemade chocolates. A surge of warmth went through him, and he found himself smiling helplessly as he unfolded the letter.
Dear Jumpy, he read, Happy Valentines Day! Did I surprise you? You know, sending messages anywhere in the world is really easy these days. Modern technology's pretty impressive in that regard. But then again, maybe we've never needed technology to convey information.
Have you heard of the Laurel Wreath incident? It's supposed to be an example of what's called "cross-correspondence." In the early twentieth century, a prominent psychical researcher named Frederick Meyers died. Soon afterwards, mediums he'd known while alive all started to receive messages they felt were from Meyers. For example, one medium recorded the word "laurel" over and over and again, while another was told by Meyer's spirit that he had left a third medium a laurel wreath. That third medium kept writing about Apollo's laurel bough and crowns of laurels. There were many other incidents like this relating to Meyers' spirit. Do you think the mediums were picking up on something of Meyers that had survived his physical death? Or were they somehow influencing each other?
Either way, I'm glad I have a more reliable way to send you chocolates! I hope you like them. I've never made chocolates before, and Aoi said I should have just bought you some instead if I really wanted to send you something. But I've always wanted to make chocolates for the boy I love, so I did my best. I'll even forgive you for not being able to send me anything for White Day, since that's kind of my fault and all.
Love,
Akane
Junpei stared at the letter for a long moment, then put his head down on the table and started to laugh. He wasn't sure why. Maybe because of the absurdity of the whole situation. Maybe out of relief that she was okay and had contacted him. Either way, it was a while before he could sit up and wipe the tears from his eyes. "Love you too, Kanny," he said quietly, trusting that wherever she was, whatever she was doing, she'd hear him.
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