Fenris (pronounced FEN-ris, /ˈfɛn.rɪs/) drifts from the frost-worn pages of Old Norse myth, where Fenrir—the wolf-child of Loki—waits at the edge of twilight to challenge Odin himself, a creature of predestined ferocity and solemn grandeur. In bestowing Fenris upon a son, one invokes the wild whisper of Arctic winds and the solemn calm of a lone wolf traversing snow-laden pines under a blood-red moon—yet there is restraint in its syllables, a cool elegance akin to a tsukimi gathering beside a silent pond, where rice lanterns bob like distant stars. This name, both a promise of latent power and a testament to inner resolve, carries the paradox of creation and destruction in equal measure, much as a sakura petal drifts free to swirl and then settle, bearing beauty and inevitability in a single breath. Dry humor surfaces in the unspoken hope that no infant Fenris will feel compelled to wrestle deities before mastering his first haiku, but rather to embrace a path of quiet strength and storied allure.