“Wait, so you used to wear braids?”
Komaru stares at the picture of Touko, in the back of the class with — and this is a surprise — Junko Enoshima's arms around her. The girl in the photo is shy and shrinking, but there's a hint of a glare as she looks up beneath her glasses at the girl who started the Tragedy, smiling wide as she holds Touko a little bit too intimately. Instead of focusing on that — instead of wondering if Touko had a type — Komaru is instead taken aback by the mundanity of the photo; more specifically, the braids.
“That's what you have to say?” Touko scoffs, before she frowned, pensive. “...Y-Yeah… I used to wear braids. But, uh. W-Well… Enoshima,” she spit her name like a curse, “Kept in-insisting on braiding my hair. Because I did it wrong, apparently. N-Now… I can't stand braids.”
“Aw.” Komaru pouts. “But you look so cute in them!”
Touko glares. “Y-Yeah? Well, you'd look cute in pigtails, but you don't see me pushing.”
Komaru paused. “...Yeah. Sorry, Toki. Still, do you have any more photos? Younger you is just so adorable.”
“I think Makoto has some.” Touko answers. “Now stop bugging me. I have more to unpack, you know.”
Komaru smiled. “I'm glad you're officially moving in, Toki. If you find anymore photos, show me, yeah?”
Touko waved her off, rolling her eyes and waving her off. “Yeah, yeah.”
Her eyes lingered on the photo of her and Junko that Komaru sets down.
“...Hey, Komaru.” Komaru paused.
“What is it, Toki?”
“...N-Nothing…” Touko murmurs. “Just… I'm glad you're my friend.”
“Aww, Toki!”
Touko's face flushed. “Sh-Shut up! Forget I said anything!”
Komaru giggled. “I'm glad you're my friend, too.”
Otherwise, Komaru thinks she might have met the same fate as Junko Enoshima: an old photograph of two friends too painful to look at.
“I'm really, really glad.”