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Chamber first ‘met’ Yoru in the corner of a damp cigar office: tobacco smoke in his eyes, air lighter fuel-humid, Marlboro breathing ash on the pool table.
“He is the one you need to watch out for,” His double had said. Fifteen paces away, across the long stretch of the fragranced office, hands empty of the nicotine Chamber drew in likexygen. And Chamber gave a breathy hum, his eyes casually falling to the confidential file splayed out like a Picasso on the pool table. The image of Callsign: Yoru stared back at him. He heard his double pace.
It was amusing: the differences between the two of them. Nuances, ones that split their personalities apart, a fork in the road burning up into nothing more than fractures of their shared reflection . But it had been amusing enough that Chamber could afford to smile from his comfortably sat leather chair while his double stood with monochromatic monotony, face fixed on a blank expression, eyes dark and heavy. “He is the one. You have to remember. Vincent, did you hear me?”
Chamber had given a shameless smile, “Of course, mon frère ! Many thanks for the info. I’ll make good use of it.”
His double lasted only fifteen minutes after that, disappearing into the shadows that tore bare realities apart.
And when Chamber had picked up the smooth manila folder, his fingertips gliding between the fold of the polaroid and paperclip, he already knew he would be stepping into uncharted territory.
( His double, often, looked lonelier than himself. That gaze that spanned worlds, hauntingly dull with a sharpness Chamber knew people only gained through tragedy .
…He found himself hoping that the person was not his mirror after all. That the lack of gold wrapping and instead the black line running down his face was enough of a difference that Chamber could quietly claim ignorance. But a part of him already knew— the fork in the road between both their worlds would happen to Chamber’s own soon enough.
Soon enough, those eyes would be his own.)
Chamber took the file.
On n’est jamais mieux servi que par soi-même
Chamber studied Callsign: Yoru for the next month. The name, translated, meant night in Japanese. Cute. A little bit on the nose, but still cute. He could make exceptions for cliche things when accompanied by pretty faces. And even with the Oni mask and terrible camera quality, Chamber knew this was one of the cases.
Watching him obliterate his enemies near Icebox made him even more so. How elegant.
A true Radiant if Chamber ever saw one. A “riftwalker”. Nothing short of confusing — and tragic, to be able to see through worlds but never go into them — but interesting. Powerful. Chamber briefly wondered if it were so possible to trap him in a stasis. Then he recalled the look on his double’s face, the tenseness in his tone, and decided there would be a better time for that later.
After all, Chamber was patient.
“Shooting through your own ally? Yoru, Yoru, Yoru .”
Perhaps a little bit spoiled, but patient.
“Ah, a different jacket today, Yoru. I think I preferred the last.”
Talking to his target through a screen would be pathetic if anyone was watching. But Chamber’s patience was only strong through things like these — pretending he already had it all in the grasp of his hand. And often, his sheer confidence gave way to a swath of lucky fate.
“Soon, Yoru,” Chamber said to the air as he clicked through the last image, “We will see where our interests land.”
The opportunity arose when he freed Brimstone, his double intentionally quiet in the background. But for all the man’s command in the Valorant Protocol, Chamber was already set on the figure he had seen only in photographs and surveillance. The illustrious, mysterious Yoru. Easily enough, he passed Brimstone and Cypher’s checks with flying colors. Brimstone didn’t trust Chamber in the least. And Cypher was too keen to do anything risky on both ends. But neither of them mattered in his grand scheme of plans. Non , Chamber was focused. Still, it took every ounce of his self control and recollection of sleepless nights concocting his greater plan to stop himself from confronting the boy painted in midnight blue.
Walking around the Protocol HQ didn’t allow him any passing glances at the agent Yoru. Formal introductions weren’t a ‘thing’ until two agents shared a mission, to Chamber’s dismay. And with his less-than-ideal first impression, he had been saddled with Brimstone’s pristine golden boy instead of literally any other person. A test trial once or twice, Chamber could understand. But babysitting ?
“I am your key to the other side, Brimstone!” Chamber laughed, exasperated, “Show some more faith, yes?”
Yet still, he only got the apologetic gaze of Sova and the impersonal mission distributions tossed to him in sharp email. Nothing substantial. He had no choice but to act all pleasant around Yoru’s comrades instead — Nothing to worry about there. It was all too easy to exude a casual confidence around that Phoenix, drawing the young man’s faith and attention like bees to honey. Even the likes of Killjoy were simple to please with enough flattery to brilliance and sheer tactical esteem.
“Phoenix, where is your sunny little friend? Brimstone told me to send for him.”
“Ah, Yoru? Nah man, you just missed ‘m! I can call him for ya, if you want?”
I will keep trying. “No need. It wasn’t of any importance.” I am quite stubborn.
Again.
“Ah, mademoiselle Jett~! A pleasure as always. By the way, have you seen Yoru perhaps?”
“Huh? Oh, sorry, no dice. I haven’t seen him all day. Maybe Omen’s seen him?”
Fate doesn’t want us to meet. “Duly noted, my friend. I’ll be on my way, then.” Too bad.
No matter how much the world wanted to prevent him from meeting Yoru… Chamber had to. Not even just for the sake of his double , but…
But what, Vincent?
Every now and then, Chamber found himself thumbing that first polaroid, pressing the thick white lines to his lips, a thousand questions burning unsaid.
“ Ryo Kiritani,” He muttered like a prayer in the wind, the memory of his double’s empty eyes looping endlessly in his mind, “Why are you so important to the other me?”
He finally got his chance. Not for that particular question, per se… But equally as important: Meeting Yoru in the flesh. He had rounded the corner of the hall just in time to see Yoru lounging on a couch in the main meeting room, phone in hand, looking every bit of the disgruntled loner young adult Chamber had known about for months .
“You’re the rich guy, aren’t you?” Looking him up and down, Ryo Kiritani— No, Yoru — stared at him, arms crossed and wholly unimpressed. “I could smell your cologne from down the hall.”
He sounds exactly like I imagined.
Chamber chuckled, extending his hand for a shake. He smiled, “ Oui , though you can call me Chamber instead, yes? And your friend Phoenix told me you go by Yoru?”
Yoru clicked his tongue and Chamber instantly found it charming even when Yoru didn’t make a move to shake his hand. “My friend Phoenix is an idiot.”
“Is your name not Yoru?”
“It is,” Yoru scowled. Chamber fought the urge to laugh. He looks so much like a cat. “But Phoenix isn’t my friend.”
Chamber nodded understandingly, a smile growing on his face. “Ah, I understand. Perhaps I could be yours instead?”
Laying it on a bit too thick, Chamber , His inner voice chided at him. All those hours spent preparing and here he was, threatening to undo it all because he, in fact, had so little patience left. Yoru — the man who fixated his entire future, the man he watched and studied with all the focus of a dead man walking — was dead center. Finally , Chamber could get some answers. Finally , Chamber could quell the existential fear that corrupted him whenever the word future ever so much was said.
But all Yoru did was roll his eyes, a scoff leaving him in a puff of air. “You really don’t belong here.”
“…Pardon me?” Chamber deadpanned.
Chamber, stunned, could only watch as Yoru’s eyes ran over him again, the minute frown on his face growing larger into a full out grimace.
“You’re…” Yoru stopped, licking his lips. Then his eyes narrowed, his arms loosening from across his chest and instead falling to his side. He stood up, gaze staring straight into Chamber, “This isn’t a social club. Whatever they promised you, it’s bullshit. Don’t fall for it.”
Before Chamber even had the chance to reply, Yoru moved forward, stepping right past Chamber with not so much as a second glance. But he paused right by Chamber’s side, voice low into a grunt. “If you stay, fine. Just… do it for yourself. Don’t be a hero. We have too many of those around here. It never ends well.”
And just like that, Yoru disappeared, and all Chamber had to show for it was the bodily imprint on the couch, still lightly crackling from the threads of the world Yoru tore apart wherever he went.
Don’t be a hero.
Oh, there was something there. Something… exhilarating. Something Chamber couldn’t have unearthed from files and photos and muted video logs.
“You have good taste, my double,” Chamber brushed his own fingers against his lips, a dark laugh leaving his lips.
Lucky for Yoru, Vincent Fabron was no hero. But when given a mission, well… He made sure to complete it, no matter what.
And it just so happened Chamber’s latest mission lay right in the heart of one riftwalker.