I wanted warmth and wonder, not tension — a shrine maiden not in some austere courtyard but in the humid, glowing intimacy of a foxfire bathhouse, delighted by the small spirit-flame in her hand. The vermilion-to-white hair reads pure anime while the steam does the sensual work: damp skin, a slipped haori, everything soft-lit and alive. This is the joy edition — she's charmed by her own magic. —Nyx