Her father may have made her before everyone else, but Suigintou's only ever been the first to break.
Not to say her sisters never did. They all made their mistakes. She's just just the one who disappointed early. They had made an odd pair, even before she started to fail. The man searching for a ghost, and the porcelain figure haunting his shelf.
Rattle the mantlepiece, and someone will smash into pieces.
Her father had tried. God, he had tried. There were sleepless nights where he fell asleep at the kitchen table, face shrouded and shoulders heavy underneath the toll of his work. Something like love had crept into Suigintou's heart when she had woken up and seen him under the sunrise, colour trickling into the room until everything was glowing with that incandescent warmth.
She needs answers. She needs to stop loving him.
She needs one last goodbye.