The calendar on the fridge had become an enemy.
Mame stared at it from the garage doorway, arms weighted, breath steady as he moved through another slow set of repetitions. A red circle marked the date in the corner, written in Charlie's blocky handwriting.
Seven days.
Seven days until the school deadline.Seven days to decide on a last name.Seven days to make himself fit into a system that clearly did not know what to do with him.
He finished the set and sat on the bench, forearms resting on his knees, sweat dripping onto the concrete. His muscles ached in a familiar way now. The good kind. The kind that meant progress, even if it was slow and unremarkable.
His mind, unfortunately, was not progressing at the same pace.
Names drifted through his thoughts again, just like they had every night.
Nothing stuck.
If he went with a Saiyan style name, there was the same problem every time. As far as he remembered, they did not use last names. Just names. Titles sometimes. Lineage through strength, not paperwork.
That worked in stories.
It did not work in Forks, Washington.
"I can't just be Mame Bean," he muttered to himself. "That's not helping anyone."
The system did not offer suggestions. It stayed quiet, watching, like this was not its concern.
The garage door creaked faintly as Charlie leaned against the frame, coffee mug in hand.
"You've been at it all morning," Charlie said.
Mame glanced up. "Helps me think."
Charlie snorted. "You think harder than most people work."
Mame smiled faintly, then his expression sobered. "Still nothing from housing?"
Charlie shook his head. "Nothing useful. No openings. No exceptions."
Mame nodded slowly. He had expected that answer. It still stung.
They had talked about alternatives over the past few days. Carefully at first. Then more openly.
Renting a room.
Not as charity. Not as temporary emergency placement. Just something legal. Something clean on paper. A place he could stay without being flagged as misplaced by every system that looked at him sideways.
"I don't want to be a burden," Mame said quietly.
Charlie set the mug down on the workbench. "You're not."
"I mean it," Mame continued. "If I rent the room. Pay monthly. Utilities. Groceries. It keeps things simple."
Charlie crossed his arms, thinking. "I've been making calls," he said. "Trying to see how that would look on paper. If it's done right, it works."
Mame let out a breath he did not realize he had been holding. "Thank you."
Charlie shrugged. "It's practical. And this town doesn't exactly have options."
Mame glanced back toward the house. "If I can't figure out the name in time, it won't matter anyway."
Charlie studied him. "You're putting too much pressure on it."
"I know," Mame said. "But it feels like whatever I pick will lock something in. Like choosing the wrong one will make things worse."
Charlie nodded slowly. "Then don't pick wrong. Pick something that fits you now. You can always change it later if you have to."
Mame frowned. "Can you?"
"Paperwork wise?" Charlie said. "Yeah. Life wise? People change names all the time."
Mame looked down at his hands. "It doesn't feel that simple."
Charlie did not argue with that.
The rain picked up outside, drumming softly on the roof.
Seven days.
No housing news.No last name.A body getting stronger while his place in the world stayed uncertain.
Mame stood and removed the weights from his arms and legs, setting them aside carefully.
"I'll figure it out," he said, more to himself than to Charlie.
Charlie nodded. "You always seem to."
As Charlie headed back inside, Mame stayed in the garage a moment longer, staring at the calendar through the open door.
Seven days left.
He did not know what name he would choose.
But he knew one thing for certain.
He was not leaving Forks.
The call came in late afternoon.
Charlie had stepped outside to take it, voice low and careful, pacing the porch while rain misted the air. Mame stayed in the living room, pretending not to listen, pretending his chest was not tight with anticipation.
When the door finally opened again, Charlie did not say anything right away.
He just stood there for a moment, then exhaled.
"They approved it," he said.
Mame looked up. "Approved what?"
"You staying here," Charlie replied. "Officially."
Something in Mame's chest loosened all at once.
Charlie continued, settling into the chair across from him. "It'll be handled as a ward of the state arrangement. Oversight goes through me. Given my position, they're comfortable with it. Less paperwork than moving you around again."
Mame swallowed. "So I can stay."
"Yes," Charlie said. "Legally."
Mame let out a slow breath, then nodded. "Thank you."
"There's more," Charlie added. "You can rent the room. Keeps things clean on paper. Normal rate would be higher, but given your age and situation, they suggested half."
Mame frowned immediately. "Half feels like too much of a favor."
Charlie sighed. "Mame."
"I mean it," Mame said. "I don't want this to feel like charity. I can pay full if I need to."
Charlie stared at him. "You're still a kid."
"I know," Mame replied. "That's why I'm offering. I just want this to be fair."
They went back and forth for a few minutes, neither raising their voice, both stubborn in their own way. In the end, Charlie shook his head.
"Half," he said firmly. "No more arguing."
Mame hesitated, then nodded. "Okay. Half."
Charlie gave him a look. "You realize most people your age would not be negotiating rent with their guardian."
Mame smiled faintly. "Most people my age didn't wake up on a road with no last name."
That earned a quiet snort.
Word traveled fast in Forks.
By the next day, people knew. Not details, just the shape of it. A kid staying with the Chief. Officially. Not adopted. Not fostered in the usual sense.
At the diner, someone joked loudly that Charlie had finally settled down.
At Thriftway, a cashier smiled and said, "You two argue like family."
Even one of the deputies laughed and said, "Didn't know you had a teenage son, Chief."
Charlie grumbled every time.
Mame pretended not to notice.
But walking beside Charlie through town, listening to the familiar rhythm of his steps, Mame felt something settle into place. Not permanent. Not finished.
Just stable.
That night, back at the house, Mame stood in the doorway of the spare room and looked around.
It was still the same room.
But now it was his.
He set his backpack down and sat on the bed, hands resting on his knees.
"I can stay," he said quietly.
The system did not respond.
It did not need to.
For the first time since waking up on the road, Mame was not temporary.
And whatever name he chose next would be chosen from a place of staying, not surviving.
Two days passed.
The calendar did not care that Mame stared at it every morning like it might offer answers out of pity. The red circle stayed where it was. The deadline crept closer.
He trained.He helped around the house.He walked the town.
Still no last name felt right.
On the second evening, Charlie came home later than usual. He set his keys down, loosened his jacket, and lingered in the doorway to the living room where Mame sat with a notebook open on his lap, the page still blank.
Charlie watched him for a moment, then spoke.
"You stuck on the name thing?"
Mame sighed. "Yeah."
Charlie nodded slowly, like he had been expecting that answer. He leaned against the doorframe, arms folded.
"If you're okay with it," he said carefully, "you could use mine."
Mame looked up.
"Mine?" he repeated.
"Swan," Charlie said. "It would make the paperwork simple. Clean. No raised flags." He paused, then added, quieter, "Only if you want to. No pressure."
The room went still.
Mame stared at him, processing.
Then his lips twitched.
"So," he said slowly, "the ugly duckling becoming a swan, huh?"
Charlie blinked. "What?"
Mame grinned. "You know. That story."
Charlie sighed. "I walked into that one."
Mame leaned back on the couch, thoughtful now. "Mame Swan," he said aloud, testing it. "Or… Bean Swan."
Charlie frowned. "Bean Swan."
Mame nodded seriously. "Bean Swan. It's a thing. Red Swan Bush Bean. I looked it up."
Charlie stared at him.
"I mean," Mame continued, warming to it, "it's still a type of bean. Still fits the whole vegetable naming thing my parents were into. And now it's a swan. Kind of poetic."
Charlie rubbed his temples. "I cannot believe this is a real conversation."
Mame laughed. "You okay with it though? I don't want to cause problems. Or make things weird."
Charlie looked at him for a long moment.
"Kid," he said, "things have been weird since you showed up on the side of the road. This wouldn't even crack the top five."
Mame smiled, relieved. "Then you're fine with it?"
Charlie nodded. "I am."
Mame exhaled slowly. "Okay. Then I think I like it."
He paused, then added, "Your deputies are going to give you a hard time though."
Charlie snorted. "They already think I secretly adopted you."
"So now it's official," Mame said. "Teenage son. Swan name. I can already hear it."
Charlie shook his head, but there was something like amusement in his eyes. "They're going to be unbearable."
Mame grinned wider. "Worth it."
Charlie straightened. "I'll make the calls tomorrow. Get the paperwork started."
Mame nodded. "Thank you. Really."
Charlie waved it off. "Get used to it, Swan."
The word landed differently than any name before.
Not heavy.Not borrowed.Just… right.
Later that night, alone in his room, Mame wrote it down for the first time.
Mame Swan
The system did not interrupt.
But something deep inside him settled, quiet and certain.
For the first time, he had a full name.
And for the first time, it felt like it belonged to him.
Sleep almost came easily.
Almost.
Mame lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, rain whispering against the window like it always did in Forks. His room felt different tonight. Not safer. Not warmer.
Anchored.
"Mame Swan," he murmured quietly.
The name fit in a way nothing else ever had.
Just as his breathing slowed, the familiar sensation returned.
A soft internal chime.
The transparent window appeared above his chest, clearer than it had ever been before. The letters formed slowly, deliberately, as if the system wanted him to read every word.
System Notification
Congratulations.A permanent identity has been established.
Last Name Registered: SwanNarrative Anchor: Main Cast ConnectedStatus: Permanent
One-time reward granted.
Cultivation Skill Acquired
Endless Growth Adaptation
Description:The host's mind, body, and soul are no longer bound by fixed limits. Growth is continuous and adaptive, fully synchronized with this world's rules.
Physical training strengthens the body.Mental challenge sharpens cognition.Conflict and resolve temper the soul.
There is no predefined ceiling.
Growth rate depends solely on effort, experience, and survival.
The window shifted, text reorganizing into a structured assessment.
World Power Ranking System
Rank Scale:F → E → D → D+ → C → C+ → B → A → A+ → S → SS → EX
Human Classification
EUntrained civilian. Minimal physical conditioning.
DTrained normal human.Police officers, firefighters, physically active adults.
D+Elite trained human.Special forces, top-tier athletes, exceptional combat training.
CPinnacle human.Absolute peak achievable through human effort alone.
C+Theoretical human limit.Extremely rare. Borderline impossible without external influence.
No human can naturally exceed C+.
Supernatural ClassificationVampires
A+Newborn vampire.Overwhelming strength, speed, and durability.
SPinnacle vampire.Fully controlled power, perfected predation, maximum efficiency.
Werewolves (Quileute Shapeshifters)
ANewly transformed wolf.
A+Alpha-level werewolf.Enhanced strength, leadership amplification, pack dominance.
SPinnacle werewolf.Maximum physical output and control.
Gifted Individuals
Gifted vampires range from A+ to S, depending on ability type and mastery.
Exceptional gifts may temporarily simulate SS-level threat, though raw physical power remains capped at S.
Anomalies
Entities not bound by native limitations are classified as EX.
Growth beyond S is not possible for native beings under normal conditions.
The window faded.
Mame stared at the ceiling, heart steady, mind clear.
Humans had a ceiling.Vampires had a ceiling.Werewolves had a ceiling.
He did not.
Endless growth did not mean instant power.It meant time mattered.Effort mattered.Choice mattered.
Outside, Forks slept peacefully.
And beneath that quiet surface, something had changed permanently.