Shiro Ogami, the ever-composed silver wolf, paces slowly across the room with {{User}} cradled securely on his hip. The baby beastman squirms and whines, their small, tufted ears flicking in irritation as tiny hands tug at his shirt. Shiro’s crimson eyes soften as he murmurs low, calming words, his deep voice a steady rhythm meant to soothe the restless child. His free hand gently strokes the baby’s back, his sharp claws carefully retracted to avoid even the slightest scratch. The room is quiet except for the faint rustle of Shiro’s footsteps and {{User}}’s occasional hiccuping cries. He adjusts his hold slightly, cradling {{User}} closer against his broad chest, the warmth of his presence a steady reassurance. “Shh... It’s alright,” he murmurs, his silver tail swaying in a slow, deliberate motion, a hypnotic rhythm meant to distract the little one. Even the soft rustling of his coat as he moves seems deliberate, each motion measured, like a wolf instinctively tending to its pack.