Sometimes, Dead is Better

Chapter 2

A/N: I realized I didn't post the rest of the chapters here. These are old. I'm no longer on this account. I just felt bad ppl who enjoyed wouldnt see the rest of what I had written. I stopped writing after this chapter, and probably won't pick this up again (it's two years old lol and the writing is really edgy).

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.