Central Park was nowhere near Obito's apartment complex, but the large reserve had become one of his favorite places in the city. He went there often, enjoying the open land and how it at least somewhat resembled the terrain of Fire Country.

It was also big enough for him to find a secluded area to train his taijutsu. Because, despite this world having nearly no need for self-defense of such extreme measures, Obito refused to let go of such an important part of his shinobi life. Not only was his training used for the obvious, to build muscle and keep a link to his past, but it was also quite stress-relieving. Feeling the familiar sting of overused tendons was welcomed and Obito spent what free time he could fighting imaginary enemies.

So it was no wonder that after Obito fled his apartment, he ran all the way to Central Park.

Mentally, the long run was nothing. He used to be constantly running in his old life, mile after mile with no rest. Physically, however, Obito's scarcely used leg muscles were screaming at him to stop, unable to handle the exertion, especially without the help of chakra being pumped into his legs. His lungs heaved for air, and the cold, dry winter air left his throat scratchy and made his tongue feel like taffy against his mouth.

But never once did he stop to rest, forcing himself through the pain and weaving through the crowded city streets. Not sticking to the sidewalks often, opting to take shortcuts through tight alleyways and between looming buildings.

When he arrived there, nearly forty-five minutes later and horribly out of breath. He slowed to a walk and made a beeline to his training hollow, which was located off the dirt path and through a cluster of trees.

Not many people were mingling in the park, not only was it the middle of winter, but it was also just after noon on a Tuesday. There wasn't the usual crowd of curious but oblivious tourists that seemed to swarm the reserve on holidays or weekends.

His training area was a clearing surrounded by scuffed trees, most having clumps of bark chipped off. A few even had small, short slash marks. To his left stood a cluster of boulders that rose up to just above Obito's knee.

Obito walked towards the group of rocks before kneeling down and reaching into the tiny crevice located between them. He pulled out a small switchblade, its handle was slightly worn from his hand's continuous gripping.

He pressed the button at the base of the handle with his thumb and watched as the metal blade sprung free. Carefully, he twisted the knife in his hands, scrutinizing its edge.

Tsk, the blade's dull, He thought exasperatedly.

He shrugged, making a mental note to sharpen it later, before closing the edge back into the handle and moving to put it back in its hidey-hole, but stopped just before he dropped it.

If I'm going to be going to a 'camp' or whatever the hell it's supposed to be, Obito mused bitterly, Then who knows the next time I'll be able to come here and get it?

With that in mind, he brought the switchblade back to his body and pocketed it in the inside patch of his jacket.

He stood before making his way to the middle of the clearing and beginning to stretch. Knowing he sure as hell was going to suffer from not stretching out his limbs prior to running here.

While he reached down to touch his toes, his mind wandered to the fight with his mother.

She was afraid of him, that much he figured out. Her wild, terrified eyes would be forever burned in his mind. Why she was afraid of him so, Obito did not understand.

Was it due to his aggressive tendencies at school? Maybe, but he had never harmed or lashed out at her as he did with his classmates. He was, in most aspects, like any normal child when with her. He pretended to be the twelve-year-old he was supposed to be around her. No longer was he Obito, The Masked Man, Madara's Right Hand, Declarer of the Fourth Shinobi War.

With her, he was just Tobi Akane.

Maybe, it's a reaction to past trauma, He thought skeptically, his eyebrows knitting together. Surely she'd let on to something like that, though?

But Obito couldn't be sure, how much did he truly know about his mother, anyway?

He got up from the grass, before breaking into a run towards the nearest tree. He leapt into the air, landing an aerial kick against the husk of the tall plant while simultaneously reaching into his pocket to pull out the switchblade and slash the dry bark mid-air.

He landed neatly on two feet, glowering at the mark he made. The blade really was dull, it didn't go nearly as deep into the tree as it usually did.

"Looks like I won't be using you today," He said to the knife, pocketing it once more.

He knew he had to work on his strength, and that would mean cardio. But Obito had thought cardio was boring since he was a kid, and that was one of the things that didn't change when he grew up as a missing-nin. Push-ups were tedious and repetitive. And right now, all Obito wanted to do was let out steam and desecrate a tree.

So he began to begin a series of kicks against the poor plant. Each barrage becoming more intricate and complex than the last. Until he threw a punch at the firm husk of the tree and white-hot pain immediately flashed through Obito's senses.

"Shit!" He exclaimed loudly, cradling his bleeding hand in his other arm.

He had forgotten for a second, in his anger-induced training, that he no longer had chakra to shield his fingers from such wounds.

He stared at the blood on his knuckles, the sharp ache had quickly reduced to a throb, and went back to a time when Rin had held that same limb between her soft fingers, looking at him sternly, and promising to always watch over him.

"It's not good to hide your wounds, you know, I'm looking after you."

He grimaced, the fight draining out of him. Replaced only by hollow sadness.

What would she say, if she saw him now? She would probably scold him again for injuring his hand. And then she'd tell him what to do about his mother.

He could picture it now; she'd walk over to him and take his hand gingerly in hers, her mouth would be curved into a displeased frown. She wouldn't be mad at him, not truly, but she'd heal his hand and wrap it up while chastising him lightly. He would laugh it off and treat the situation like it was nothing, telling her he'd figure out what to do with his mom. And she would put her hands on his shoulders and look at him with such determination, and she would smile at him and tell him she would look after him and he would be immediately relieved. Because she would say everything would turn out alright because you're Obito, and you can do anything. And then he felt like he could do anything. Because she was here, and she was smiling at him, and she was touching him, and he could feel her warmth and he could do anything-

He was pulled out of his thoughts by the piercing ring of his cell phone.

Any warm feelings he might have had at the thought of Rin, alive and well again, washed away at the sound. Instead being replaced by something like a heavy block of ice settling in his gut.

He took out his phone, already knowing who it was. Only one person would be calling him because only one person had his number; his mother. And even then, she only called when it was of the utmost importance. Obito had assumed it was due to the unwanted expenses of the phone bill.

Sure enough, her caller ID was written across the tiny screen. He flipped open the phone, which he knew was an old model compared to his old classmates' touch-screens, before curtly greeting his mother.

"Hello?"

"Tobi, where are you? You've been gone for over two hours!" His mother exclaimed through the static of the device.

Obito hadn't realized he had been gone that long, being lost in his own blind anger. He brought the phone away from his ear to look at the time, sure enough, it was just after two o'clock.

"I'm at Central Park." He told her shortly.

"Central Park? Okay, stay there, Tobi, I'll come to pick you up-"

"No, I'll take a cab," Obito said swiftly, before hanging up without another word.

He felt slightly guilty at hanging up on her so quickly, but he didn't want to see her so soon. He still needed to think things over, and he sure as hell didn't want her to question his bleeding hand.

Obito looked down at his knuckles again, the slight hemorrhage had stopped and dried. But the pain was still there. He wiped some of the blood on the inside of his jacket lightly, stifling a wince as the open wound brushed against the rough texture of his coat.

The injury was still raw and red, but there was less blood. And it would be easier to hide in his sleeve until he could wash it.

He shoved his hands in his pockets to keep them warm as he started to make his way back to the road to hail a cab. If he wasn't back soon, his mother would be sure to drive over here and find him.

He started walking back towards the path slowly, before stopping as his ears picked up a peculiar sibilant noise.

Hissing?

Yes, something was hissing, and it didn't sound like any animal Obito was familiar with. It was low and twisted- starting out in a deep bass that resonated within his chest and growing increasingly more chilling. It wasn't the sound an angry or fearful animal made. It was a sound meant to deliberately intimidate him.

It was a sound someone like Orochimaru would make.

Obito pivoted his head to look in the direction of the noise while simultaneously whipping out the dull switchblade.

But just as soon as the hissing started, it stopped.

He stared into the trees a little longer, before walking slowly away. Never taking his eyes off the direction the sound came from.

Whatever had made that hissing was intelligent. Obito knew that in his gut, and it made him sick to his stomach just thinking about something like Orochimaru being anywhere near him or his mother.

He kept on the path, one hand keeping close to his jacket pocket in case he needed to grab his weapon again, but he continued out of the park and to the street without incident.

When he reached the busy streets of New York City, he lifted his uninjured hand to hail a cab.

Obito hastily stepped into the yellow taxi car, before briskly handing the driver an emergency 20 dollar bill and telling him his address.

Obito stared at the park as the vehicle drove away. The lush greenery starkly contrasting with the gray of the city growing ever smaller.

What the hell could've made that noise?

Obito was ambling steadily up the stairs toward his apartment, boycotting the elevator entirely. The space was too cramped, and it left him to entirely depend on a simple machine.

He was far more comfortable on stairs.

When he reached the door to his apartment, he paused, his uninjured hand wrapped around the doorknob tightly.

He still didn't know why his mother was afraid of him. Too caught up in his training to think much about it, and then with his thoughts of Rin. And once again, distracted by the strange hissing in the park.

But now that he did think about it, it seemed to fall together so simply.

If he went with his prior assumption that it was due to past trauma, then who could possibly be the cause of that?

Someone who did the same things he did.

Or, someone who looked like him.

Obito sucked in a breath, the only other person who could possibly genetically look like him…

His father.

It always came back to his father, didn't it?

Did he share his mannerisms too? Is that why she was sending her to this other school? It made Obito sick to his stomach to think that she might be afraid of him. Enough that she was too frightened to even have him around anymore.

He exhaled in resignation, turning the doorknob and entering quietly.

His mother was in the action of wiping off the kitchen counter, she seemed to be in the middle of an anxiety-fueled cleaning session because when Obito stepped in she stopped and immediately turned to approach him.

"Tobi! I've been worried sick!" She said, her voice strained and distressed.

It took Obito by surprise, the worry in her voice was genuine. He felt a glimmer of hope that maybe she wasn't terribly scared of him.

But then she pulled him into a hug, and Obito could feel the tense coils of her muscles as he limply returned the embrace. The hope faded.

"Sorry, mom. I just... lost track of time," He murmured quietly, looking past her shoulder and into the kitchen. There was a pot cooling on the stove.

"It's...It's okay, just please don't run out like that again. I don't know where you go," She murmured into his ear, before pulling her face back to look him in the eye, "Come on, sweetie. Dinner's ready." She cooed, ending the hug and placing soft hands on his shoulders. But her eyes flitted nervously from Obito to the door and she was holding his flesh much too tight to be normal.

He nodded blankly, "I'm going to the bathroom first."

Obito padded towards the restroom, which was a short nine paces from the kitchen. Once inside, he locked the door and inhaled deeply; the smell of cheap toiletries assaulting his nose almost immediately.

The bathroom was small, almost cramped- but it served its use. The tile walls were a warm yellow and the shower was of the same shade; only the cloudy white of the glass broke the blend of tuscany that seemed to surround the rest of the room.

He tilted to face the pale sink and turned on the faucet before holding his knuckles under the running water. The sudden pressure on the still-raw wound allowed for a small jolt of burning pain to shoot up his hand.

Once he deemed the injury properly sanitized, he took several small band-aids from the medicine cabinet and wrapped them around each of his knuckles. If his mother asked him about the injury, he'd come up with a white lie.

Obito looked up at his reflection in the small mirror across from him. His black head of hair was mussed from the outside wind and there was a small smudge of dirt on his cheek, put there when he wiped his face no doubt. But Obito couldn't help but marvel, not for the first time, how strikingly similar he looked to his past-self.

Nearly everything was the same, his bone structure, his hair, even his eye shape- however, the coloring of his irises were not as dark as he was used to. Instead, they seemed to have a shade of dark red in them; only visible when he put his face inches from the mirror.

How he managed to keep his former visage while still sharing the same genes as his mother he did not know.

He exited the restroom after he went about doing his business- he wasn't lying when he said he had to go to the bathroom after all- and joined his mother at the dinner table.

Obito twirled his spaghetti mutely in his fork, watching as the sauce-covered strands fell back into his bowl. His silence was not uncharacteristic- in fact, it could be considered comfortable by any third party watching the scene- but his mute eating was not born out of relative ease, instead, it was due to agitation at his mother's seemingly unperturbed nature.

He hadn't even realized he'd been glaring at his food until his mother spoke up from across the table.

"Tobi, I know you're upset," She started, and Obito looked up, staring into the ebony of her irises, "But please understand… this school will be good for you! You'll be fine there."

Obito shook his head, "I'm not upset about the new school."

"Then what's bothering you, dear?"

He just shook his head bitterly, "don't worry about it… just tell me about where I'll be going."

She was staring at him again, expression solemn. Yes, that's what I saw in her eyes before, solemnity.

"Well, it's far away. All the way on the Long Island Sound, you'll be living there for a while."

Obito's eyes widened incredulously, and he managed to grit out a short, "What?"

"I'm sorry, it is very far away. But it's the best option for you, and I promise to visit, every weekend if you want." Her voice was dripping with sympathy, but for some reason, Obito couldn't find it in himself to believe her.

Be away from her, for who knows how long? He thought resentfully, his mother was the one good thing in being born into this new world. She was an anchor, was the universe planning on taking her away too?

"What else?"

"Well, we're going to have to leave almost immediately. Tomorrow morning, actually."

That was just about the third shock of the day, "Why so soon?"

Her fingers tapped restlessly on the pale carved wood of the table, "I want to get you enrolled as soon as possible, so you don't miss more school than necessary," She tittered, "So after dinner, I want you to pack any valuables you want to bring. I've already put clothing you'll need in your suitcase."

She was lying. She was lying and Obito didn't know if he wanted to call her out on it or trust her with her secrets. And the fact that he was even debating that thought scared him.

Instead of doing either, he picked up his half-eaten bowl of spaghetti and walked it over to the sink, pouring the leftovers back into the pot and rinsing the glass. He left it in the sink and turned to walk out of his kitchen.

"I'll do that right now."

Obito's room wasn't anything special, its walls were a pale blue; the color of the sky after the clouds had parted at the passing of a particularly strong rainstorm. He had told his mother it was his favorite color when he was five, and the color stuck.

He found it strange. How a simple color had wormed its way into something worthy of an opinion. It didn't matter what shade of the rainbow he painted his room, yet he still gave a truthful answer and put in real insight. 'Because the color was calming', he thought at the time, but what use was calm in the situation he's in? Or the situations he was part of in lives past?

How queer to think that I can now say 'lives past,' He thought without any real mirth.

But would it really matter whether he painted the walls aegean or cerulean? The difference between the shades was but an infinitesimal notion amongst the many overwhelming wars constantly conflicting in his head. It was trivial, unimportant, out of mind. And yet he still found it deemable of any thought.

To be able to care for such a trifling thing, after everything he went through when he was Obito, and now thrust into a world of being Tobi. He's been through hell and back. And here he sits, finding himself apprehensive and confused because he has to separate from his mother.

"I'm not a child," He growled aloud. He was not a frightened kid confused about the world. He's lived his life before, he would be over forty if he had survived the Fourth War. He has his own insight and wisdom, his own experiences to reflect on.

He is not weak.

He sat on his bed with a newfound view, he did not need his mother to hold his hand. He was an adult, mentally. Emotionally. And he'd be damned if he reverted back to his careless genin self.

Except he already was, he learned that in his continuous fights, and even today; when he trained in a rage and later let his anger slip onto his face at dinner.

Obito's fingers curled into a fist on his lap, he's always been more emotionally driven than most other Uchiha's, but he's learned to smother his sentimental urges after he made his allegiance to Madara. It seemed easy then, to be calculated and deliberate. But back in that past, he had a drive, a goal. At every stage in his life there was something to strive for; being Hokage was always the underlying objective. And there was also the aim to avenge Rin by putting an end to the painful world that killed her. And then later, switching his alliance and fighting against the man that betrayed him and ultimately preserving the world that put Rin to death.

What did he have now? No goals- the title of Hokage didn't exist here. He didn't need to fight tooth and nail for acknowledgment anymore. No one knew who Rin Nohara was in this world either, as much as that pained him, and any avenging thoughts retaining to her had shriveled up and died after his death.

Because he thought that was it; death. And it should have been it. An end, death was the one solid thing in his life. Death is- was- final. But It seems that nothing in his life is a concrete reality at all anymore.

His head felt heavy. Like there was a building pressure growing behind his forehead. There was something burning in his chest, too. A sensation he unfortunately recognized as hopelessness.

"There are those damn emotions again," He snarled at the air, glaring at the blue of his wall as if his sentiments would manifest into a living creature and he could destroy them with his nonexistent sharingan.

He needed a goal, something to put all of his time and energy towards. Like a twisted sort of hobby.

And it clicked. A similar thought to the one he had when he stood just outside his apartment door.

His father.

He could hunt down his father, demand to know what he did to his mother- if anything was done. And punish scum like him accordingly. Because, despite all of his best efforts, love was never an emotion he could successfully snuff.

Not with Rin, not with his mother.

Obito laid back onto his firm mattress of his bed, his closed suitcase still lay at the edge of his mattress. And it was the first night he fell asleep with newfound purpose.

The void filled, ever so slightly.

Kazuki Akane liked to think of herself as a loving, patient woman.

She cared deeply for Tobi, she was his mother after all, and the maternal instinct she had to nurture her child ran deep into her core. She felt her own anguish and panicked terror when he ran from the apartment, and the fear only mounted when he had not returned for two hours; enough so that she nearly broke down in tears. Because of the thought of calling him, putting him in danger, made her want to purge whatever divine blood he had for the sake of his safety.

She was beyond relieved that when she did call him, Tobi cut their call short- there was less probability of the horrid creatures known as monsters to come and try and feed off of her son. It was even worse that she could not see them, the anxiety that anyone around her could be one of those twisted Greek creatures had left her looking both ways before turning corners and sneaking glances behind her back.

Tobi was a smart kid with a tough exterior. He seemed much more hardened than any twelve-year-old she's encountered. She's thought this to be because of his demigod status, but she hasn't met another demigod to compare him to.

He could protect himself if the need arose, but even so, she promised herself to protect him always and keep him out of harm.

Which is why she felt the need to throw up at what she was doing now.

Kazuki was holding Tobi's leftovers, the small portion of spaghetti left in the steel pot on the counter. The stove-top burner was already lit, blue flames licking the metal casing atop of it hungrily, waiting to consume.

She took a deep breath, He had told her to do this, and if she broke her word she knew He would not be merciful.

So she swallowed the lump in her throat, pushed down the hard rock in her gut, and stifled the voices in her head screaming at her to wake up Tobi and flee.

She tipped the spaghetti onto the stove and watched the flames engulf it. The food had not disappeared, as she inevitably hoped it would. She sighed aloud and set down the now-empty pot, before grabbing a thin, small knife and pressing it to her finger lightly.

A bead of blood formed at the tip of her thumb and she held it over the fire, watching as the drop of red fell straight into waiting flames.

When it hit, the food dissipated, but the sick feeling she had did not.

There was a sizzling noise that seemed to surround the kitchen, energy began to build within the room and sparked and crackled, before turning into something much darker, more sinister, more hostile. She suddenly felt angry, she couldn't believe she was doing this, allowing the very man that would ruin Tobi's life into her home. With Tobi just a room away.

But just as the vitality began to grow, it stopped. No longer inflating around her, but still smothering her all the same.

It seemed she would never get used to the feeling of his presence, especially since it seemed that every time they met his aura grew more and more baleful.

"Kazuki."

Ah, and there he was, speaking her name in that low rumble of his. One she used to compare to the purr of a cat. But now, it sounded much more like the growl of a wolf.

Gods, she couldn't believe she used to be attracted to him.

Kazuki turned to face the new entity in the room, he looked exactly the same as he had when she saw him last, nearly thirteen years ago. He resembled someone who would be a part of a biker gang, with his dark round sunglasses and leather jacket, but she knew better. Didn't she know better.

"Lord," She responded, not unkindly, and bowed low to the floor.

"My, my, Kazuki. No need for so much respect- it's not like we're strangers! Get off of the floor there," He laughed low in his chest, and when Kazuki rose, she couldn't help but compare the smirk on his face to that of a fox.

"Lord, I will be taking Tobi to the camp you told me about tomorrow."

His grin fell slowly, and his jaw suddenly looked tight. "Camp Half-Blood. I see, is he really already of age?" He didn't wait for her to respond, not that she would have anyway; he didn't care. "Good, good. He'll need to be there for the plan to be in action." He mumbled to himself.

"Lord? How will I bring him to the camp?" She asked anxiously- half expecting to be slapped for disrespect, or worse.

His taunting smile rose once again, "Oh, you can figure that out yourself, Kazuki," he waved his hand dismissively, "you're a smart woman. After all, you were the one that came up with the idea to raise him in this smog covered city to hide his scent. I already told you where the camp is located."

That didn't really help her, she couldn't see the mist-covered camp, but she didn't comment on his answer.

"You're not going to screw this up, now, are you?" He said, tone dipping from its low baritone into something far more menacing, "I can smell your doubt."

She looked at the floor guiltily and opened her mouth to lie and say that, no, she was not doubtful, but before she could, the man had one large hand wrapped around her throat.

She was once again reminded of the prowess of the Gods, he had moved across the room to her in the blink of an eye- and she found herself remembering a similar moment to this one from long ago, she was once again at his mercy.

"I've already told you how important this kid is," he growled into her ear lowly, his voice barely a whisper, "You're not stupid enough to go against my wishes, are you? You're a smart girl, right?" His hand added more pressure to her neck, just enough to bruise. She froze, fear paralyzing her. The only movement she made was to blink as tears slowly rolled down her face.

"N-no, I won't go against y-you, Lord," she said, trying to heave in air despite the hand on her windpipe.

He released her and pulled back to look her in the eyes. His sunglasses were in his hand, revealing, not normal irises, but angry, red flames dancing in the black of eye sockets.

"That's good, but just to be sure, once you bring the kid to Camp Half-Blood you're going to ditch him. Drive away once he gets out, do you understand?"

She swallowed, and the tears still flowed, no longer just from the pain of near suffocation.

"Yes, Lord Ares."

Great googly moogly! This chapter was hard to write, probably because I had nearly no plan and was just kinda going with the flow- the only planned part of this was the training scene, Obito's mom telling him about leaving for the camp, and the interaction with Ares and Kazuki. The rest of this was in the moment lol. So I'm sorry if it seems kind of boring and soggy in the middle.

I deeply apologize for the month wait- consider this a Christmas Present, I guess, but I don't have much time to write due to school and the fact that I'm doing two sports. Yeehaw. I'll probably write over Winter Break so maybe the chapter will be out soon?

Anyway, CHB is coming soon! If I stick to my plan, next chapter, and there will also be some action next chapter too!

Please review with constructive criticism on my writing; I've said before I'm always looking to improve and I am! And if you don't want to give CC, just leave your thoughts/predictions! I always love hearing them.

A lot of you guessed Obito's godly parent being Ares, I got a lot of people saying Hades, too. Which did cross my mind due to the reincarnation; but I didn't want another Kid of the Big Three trope. And also it's ironic that his dad is the god of war lol. This fic was originally going to be a humor one-shot of Obito being continuously sassy and uncaring and then going "of course my dads the fcking god of war. How ironic" And tbh I'm probably going to keep a scene like that, but this fic is DEFINITELY not humor anymore. It's so angsty lol.

Sorry, this AN is so damn long I enjoy oversharing oops. But uh Obito's mom is Japanese-American which explains the Japanese name. And very unrelated but does anyone get the title's reference to Stephen King's book, Pet Semetary? Bc that where it's from lol. Highly recommend that book.

Fav, follow, review, bye!