MHA; Shikamaru With A System!

**Chapter 6: The Morning Run and the System's Gift**

The first rays of sunlight crept over the horizon, painting the sky in hues of gold and pink. The warm light spilled into Shikamaru's room, or what was left of it, through the gaping hole where the ceiling used to be. The beams of sunlight fell directly on Shikamaru's face, rousing him from his sleep. He groaned, shielding his eyes with his arm as he slowly sat up on the thin futon laid out on the wooden floor.

For a moment, he just sat there, blinking groggily as the events of the previous night came flooding back. The samurai, the fight, his father's intervention, and the System's ominous messages—it all felt like a bizarre dream. But the wreckage around him, the splintered wood and the cool morning air streaming into the room, reminded him that it had been all too real.

"It wasn't a dream," he muttered to himself, running a hand through his messy hair. He stood up, stretching his stiff limbs, and glanced around the room. The sunlight illuminated the chaos, making the damage even more apparent. "What a drag," he sighed, though there was a hint of determination in his voice.

As if on cue, the familiar blue holographic screen flickered into existence before him.

**[GOOD MORNING, PLAYER SHIKAMARU NARA.]

[DAILY TASKS AWAIT.]**

Shikamaru's eyes narrowed as he read the list of tasks:

**[DAILY TASKS:

1. RUN 2 KILOMETERS

2. 30 PUSH-UPS

3. SHADOW MANIPULATION PRACTICE]**

He sighed, remembering his father's words from the night before. *"Do what it says, complete its tasks, and stay alive."*

"You really don't waste any time, do you?" Shikamaru muttered, addressing the System as if it could hear him.

He walked over to his closet, which had miraculously survived the destruction, and pulled out a white t-shirt and a pair of black athletic pants. After changing, he slipped on a pair of white running shoes and tied his hair back into a small ponytail. His reflection in the cracked mirror showed a young man with sharp, calm eyes and a slightly bored expression, though there was a new intensity in his gaze that hadn't been there before.

As he stepped into the hallway, the smell of breakfast wafted from the kitchen. His mother's voice called out to him, sharp but warm. "Shikamaru! Breakfast is ready!"

He paused at the entrance to the kitchen, where his family was gathered around the table. His father, Shikaku, sat calmly sipping his coffee, while his mother, Yoshino, was busy setting out plates of grilled fish and miso soup. His older brother, Heiki, was halfway through a piece of toast, his eyes widening in surprise as he saw Shikamaru in his workout clothes.

"Sorry," Shikamaru said, scratching the back of his head. "I'm going out for a run."

The room fell silent. Yoshino froze, a plate in her hand, while Heiki's toast slipped from his fingers and landed butter-side down on the table.

"What?!" they exclaimed in unison, their voices filled with disbelief.

Shikamaru raised an eyebrow, his expression deadpan. "Are your reactions always this dramatic? Am I really that lazy?"

Shikaku, however, didn't seem surprised. He took another sip of his coffee, his eyes meeting Shikamaru's with a knowing look. "Do what you need to do," he said simply.

Shikamaru nodded and turned to leave, ignoring the continued protests from his mother and brother. As he stepped outside, he could still hear their voices echoing behind him.

"What's gotten into him?!" Yoshino exclaimed.

"Is he sick or something?!" Heiki added.

Shikamaru sighed, shaking his head as he walked down the dirt path that led away from the house. The morning air was crisp and cool, carrying the scent of dew and fresh grass. The countryside stretched out before him, a sea of green under the brightening sky.

"Well," he muttered to himself, "these tasks are still easier than dealing with another samurai attack."

With that, he broke into a steady jog, his movements smooth and controlled. The rhythmic sound of his footsteps against the dirt path was calming, and for a while, he allowed himself to focus solely on the run. The sun rose higher in the sky, its warm light chasing away the last remnants of the night's chill.

---

After completing the run and the push-ups, Shikamaru found a quiet spot in the shade of a large tree to practice his shadow manipulation. The System's interface appeared again, displaying a message:

**[DAILY TASKS COMPLETED.]

[REWARD: PIERCING SHADOW ABILITY UNLOCKED.]**

Shikamaru's eyes widened slightly as he read the message. "Piercing Shadow?" he muttered. "Let's see what this does."

He focused his energy, extending his shadow across the grass under the morning sun. To his surprise, the shadow began to shift and twist, rising from the ground like sharp, black spikes. Shikamaru's lips curled into a faint smile as he watched the spikes retract and reform.

"This is the ability Dad used to take down the samurai," he said, a note of satisfaction in his voice. "It's exactly what I needed."

The System's interface flickered again, displaying another message:

**[PLAYER IS NOW READY.]

[MANDATORY MISSION: TAKE THE U.A. HIGH HERO COURSE ENTRANCE EXAM.]**

Shikamaru's smile faded, replaced by a look of mild annoyance. "A mandatory mission, huh?" he muttered. "So much for my quiet life."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he stared at the message. The idea of attending U.A. High, a school for aspiring heroes, was the last thing he wanted. But the System had made it clear that he didn't have a choice.

"My peaceful future is slipping away because of this stupid system," he said, his voice tinged with frustration.

Despite his complaints, Shikamaru knew he had no choice but to comply. The System had already proven that it wasn't something he could ignore. As he stood there, the morning sun warming his face, he couldn't help but feel a flicker of curiosity.

"Well," he said, turning to head back home, "I guess I'll just have to see where this takes me."

The countryside stretched out before him, peaceful and unchanging, but Shikamaru knew that his life was about to become anything but ordinary.

.

.