Hwoarang was silent for a long moment, lost in thought. So Jin was out to kill his father and grandfather for being generally unpleasant people. Who was he to meddle in family affairs? All he was looking for was a rematch with his long lost and now-found rival. Jin had changed, that was for sure. His demeanor had changed for almost entirely passive aggressive to volatile and vengeful. Was it the devil that lived within him that changed him over the course of the years? Hwoarang smacked his fist into his palm. That had to be it. There was no other explanation for it. It wasn't like Jin Kazama to be out for revenge. That would make him too much like the family he despised. Now if only he figured out the same.

It struck him at that moment that he was alone in Jin's room. What other secrets did Jin hide behind his unstable mask?

Hwoarang poked around his mussed up bed, finding nothing but the slept in covers and a few strands of thick black hair on the starched pillowcase. Under the bed he found a small suitcase, which he carefully rifled through. Inside, he found a few extra changes of clothing, which was nothing interesting. What did catch his eye was a photograph, carefully tucked into a small pocket of the suitcase.

The color photograph was a crispy brown around the edges, as if it was burnt at one point long ago. The small, rounded face of a young Jin smiled to the camera as a pretty woman with short black bangs rested her tiny chin on his shoulder. Her arms were wrapped protectively around his middle. Was this the legendary Jun Kazama? Hwoarang slipped the photograph into his pocket and slid the suitcase back under the bed.

His search quickly brought him to the bedside drawers. Inside, he found the Holy Grail of his snoopy little dreams: A thin, black laptop computer.

"Excellent," he whispered to himself, slipping his prize out from the drawer. "So, what do we have here…" Hwoarang turned on the power and waited for the computer to boot up. When it finally gave him access to Jin's desktop (with no password prompt, Hwoarang mused idly), he was almost disappointed to find very little lingering on the boring blue background. What did catch his eye was the word program conveniently titled "Journal".

"Somebody keep a diary," he mocked quietly, double-clicking the icon.

"Stop me?" Jin laughed quietly to himself, readjusting the strap of his duffel bag over his shoulder, "If Hwoarang thinks he can stop me from doing something right, he's got another thing coming. He shouldn't be in the middle of this. I shouldn't have even talked to him…he can't help me now." He ranted on from the elevator to outside the hotel.

He doesn't want to help you.

"Who said that?" Jin stood outside the hotel on the sidewalk, whipping his head from side to side. "I said, who said that?!" his voice raised in volume and pitch, and now he was bringing attention to himself. Passersby were giving him looks, making room, walking the other, more convenient way.

No one will help you.

Jin shut his eyes. So it was the voice within that decided to speak. If he didn't reply, it would only keep talking. It would enrage or frustrate him to the point of madness, where his willpower would be low and unstable, and then take control. Just like it did around Hwoarang.

"No one needs to," his dark brow furrowed, speaking lowly so only his ears could hear him. The evil parasite needed no vocal prompting; it was as much a part of Jin Kazama as his own soul. It already knew what the boy was thinking. And it wasn't pleased. So it changed tactics.

You want to destroy.

"I want to make wrongs right…" there was hesitation, "…to correct what should never have been."

It was fate.

"How do you know?!" Jin scoffed, continuing his talk with nothingness. People were now giving him as much room as he needed. The Japanese youth was obviously crazy. "You know nothing about my father. You know as much as I know!" There was more hesitation, now with uncertainty. Jin could feel the devil smirking. It was self-complacent.

Two parts. One whole.

Jin's breath caught in his throat. "What?" he whispered, "What do you mean?"

The silence in his mind was deafening. The devil had retreated, its job done. Questions would madden the host. The force of Jin's will would crumble under the shadows of uncertainty and doubt.

A taxi pulled up in front of Jin, who unthinkingly slipped inside.

It was the beginning of an end.