All About Anime and Manga

I first answered this question back in 2015. I have watched a lot more anime since then, and this list has significantly grown.

I usually cannot stand the word “favourite.” It often implies picking one ultimate character above all others, and I simply can’t. Instead, I’ve chosen to create a list that is always open to growth.

For me, a favourite isn’t about having a crush, SIMPing, or lusting after a character. Those are completely different approaches (and posts). While there is some overlap, this list is about the characters that stand out to me for their writing, development, and presence. They’re the ones I think about outside of watching the anime, the ones I get excited to discuss and debate, and the ones I wouldn’t mind having merch or stickers of.

This way, I can happily include multiple characters from the same series without guilt. Also, a lot of this list may come across as ‘basic’, if you feel that way, I suggest skipping straight to the problematic featured guys.

My original answer

Okay, this was a really hard one for me. I have so many characters that I really like, but I managed to shrink them down to these three. 

1. Tōshirō Hitsugaya (Bleach)
2. Ulquiorra (Bleach)
3. Gray Fullbuster (Fairy Tail) 

In my original answer, I never explained why these three made the list. Now, after 10 years, I think I have the words to explain and expand. As you will see in the list below.

My Updated Answer:

This post is my hub for favourite male anime characters. It’s a living list that I’ll keep updating as I discover new characters who stick with me. For easy navigation, I’ve added a click-through guide so you can jump straight to any character’s section, and the most recent additions will always appear at the top. This is not a ranking list, just a collection of favourites.

The calculated strategists

This section is home to minds that move faster than everyone else’s. These characters dissect, predict, and adapt with precision, sometimes to survive, sometimes to win, sometimes just because they can’t help it. They’re thinkers first, but that doesn’t mean they lack heart; their intellect often hides exhaustion, empathy, or quiet rebellion beneath the surface that I can’t help but be drawn to.

L [Death Note]

L fascinates me because he represents intellect stripped of pretence. Every odd posture and quiet glance hides a razor-sharp mind dissecting morality and logic in equal measure. What I find compelling is how human he remains despite his detachment; his quirks and habits, bare feet on chairs, sugar-loaded coffee, make him more tangible than most genius archetypes. L’s brilliance isn’t just in solving puzzles, it’s in how he confronts the limits of reason when faced with emotion. Watching him navigate the blurred line between justice and obsession feels less like a battle of wits and more like a study of humanity’s fragility under pressure.

Shikamaru Nara [Naruto]

Shikamaru stands out because of how effortlessly human he feels. A self-proclaimed slacker turned brilliant strategist, he embodies the tension between intellect and apathy. I love that his genius isn’t glorified; it’s heavy, even exhausting. Yet, despite his constant “how troublesome,” he’s the one who always steps up when it matters. His calm reasoning and loyalty make him a quiet anchor amidst chaos. Shikamaru’s growth shows that true leadership isn’t loud or flashy; it’s thoughtful, patient, and deeply empathetic.

Kim Dokja [Omniscient Reader]

Kim Dokja is the reader who became the story, and that irony defines him. Detached, analytical, and self-sacrificing, he plays god and pawn simultaneously. What fascinates me is how his intellect becomes his armour; he distances himself emotionally because he understands too much. Yet every choice he makes betrays his compassion. Dokja is the perfect paradox: the man who wanted to survive a story, only to rewrite it through empathy.

Kyoya Ootori [Ouran High School Host Club]

Kyoya shouldn’t be a comfort character, but somehow he is. Manipulative, calculating, and constantly two steps ahead, he thrives in control. Yet, every once in a while, the façade cracks just enough to show something tender, a flicker of vulnerability that ruins you for good. I love how his intellect doubles as armour; he hides affection behind spreadsheets and sarcasm. He’s proof that sometimes the coldest people care the most, they just refuse to make it obvious.

Gen Asagiri [Dr. Stone]

Gen is mischief made intelligent. Cunning, dramatic, and self-serving, he somehow manages to be indispensable. What I love is how his pragmatism masks loyalty; he calculates every outcome but still chooses connection over advantage. Gen’s charm lies in his contradictions; he’s a trickster who tells the truth when it matters most.

Aguero Agnis Khun [Tower of God]

Khun embodies brilliance turned brittle. Manipulative, strategic, and devastatingly charming, he moves through the Tower like a chess player constantly two moves ahead. What draws me in is how his intellect hides deep insecurity, every alliance he builds is both tactical and protective. Khun’s loyalty burns quietly; he’s the kind of genius who never stops calculating, even when the equation is his own heart. My favourite version of him is the webtoon version.

Gin Ichimaru [Bleach]

Gin terrifies and charms me in equal measure. His smile never reaches his eyes, and his words are always a few shades too clever. He’s the embodiment of the serpent, smooth, sly, and impossible to read. Gin makes manipulation look like art and deceit feel like devotion, and that’s what makes him so dangerously captivating.

The mentors and guides

These are the characters who steady the story. Whether through wisdom, humour, or sheer presence, they lead without demanding devotion. They carry experience lightly but never without scars. Some teach through kindness, others through chaos, but all remind me that guidance doesn’t have to be perfect to be powerful.

Victor Nikiforov [Yuri!!! on Ice]

Victor embodies grace as both art and armour. Every gesture is calculated perfection, but behind the poise lies a man quietly craving inspiration. His mentorship of Yuri blends affection and ambition, making him feel human beneath the flawless surface. What I find compelling is how his charisma hides uncertainty, he’s as vulnerable as he is confident. Victor reminds me that beauty in art comes not from mastery alone, but from the courage to feel again.

Kakashi Hatake [Naruto]

Kakashi captivates me through his quiet resilience. Beneath the mask and the lazy drawl lies a lifetime of loss, loyalty, and reluctant leadership. He’s a character who wears detachment like armour, yet every decision he makes bleeds empathy and memory. What I love most is his steadiness, how he teaches through example, not sermon, and how he carries the weight of his past without letting it break his humour or compassion. Kakashi’s strength isn’t in his Sharingan or his skill; it’s in his calm, his intellect, and the way he protects others from carrying the same grief he does.

Satoru Gojo [Jujutsu Kaisen]

Gojo is a walking paradox; effortlessly powerful yet deeply human beneath the bravado. His confidence borders on arrogance, but it’s rooted in the understanding of exactly how strong he is and how dangerous the world can be. I’m drawn to the way he balances overwhelming might with playfulness, and how his carefree attitude conceals real conviction about changing the jujutsu world. Gojo represents freedom through power, but also the loneliness of standing apart from everyone else.

Kisuke Urahara [Bleach]

Kisuke is brilliance wrapped in nonchalance. Beneath the striped hat and easy grin lies a mind that’s always five steps ahead, manipulating events with unnerving precision. I love how his humour and detachment mask real regret; his intelligence isn’t just a tool, it’s a burden he carries quietly. Kisuke operates in the shadows, but everything he does hums with purpose. He’s charming, dangerous, and far too self-aware, a man who laughs because he’s already calculated the cost of every outcome.

Arataka Reigen [Mob Psycho 100]

Reigen is a masterpiece of contradictions. A conman and mentor in one, he manipulates the world with confidence he barely believes in himself. What I love is how his fraudulence never cancels out his empathy, he’s flawed but kind, selfish but sincere. Reigen’s humanity lies in his imperfection; he’s proof that good advice can come from messy people.

Tadaomi Karasuma [Assassination Classroom]

Karasuma is discipline personified. Professional, stoic, and endlessly patient, he leads with quiet confidence. What I find striking is how his composure never feels cold; beneath the tactical precision is genuine care for his students. Karasuma proves that authority doesn’t have to be harsh, respect can be earned through calm consistency.

Ginko [Mushishi]

Ginko fascinates me with his stillness. He drifts through the world like a traveller between stories, observing more than he interferes. What I love is his quiet empathy; he approaches both humans and mushi with the same respect. Ginko’s detachment isn’t apathy, it’s understanding. He carries the kind of peace that only comes from listening to the world deeply.

The stoic warriors

This section gathers those who fight with restraint. Their silence carries weight, their loyalty runs deep, and their strength feels earned rather than boasted. They aren’t emotionless; they simply measure their words, choose their battles, and know when restraint speaks louder than action.

Trevor Belmont [Castlevania]

Trevor combines cynicism and heroism in perfect measure. He drinks, swears, and fights like he’s trying to forget he cares, but he does. What draws me to him is his resilience; no matter how battered, he keeps moving forward. Trevor’s wit and weariness make him feel real, a flawed man doing good because no one else will.

Levi Ackerman [Attack on Titan]

Levi fascinates me as the embodiment of precision under pressure. Every motion he makes is efficient, deliberate, and controlled, but behind that perfection lies a quiet melancholy. He’s a man shaped by endless loss who still chooses to fight with dignity. What I find remarkable is how his strength isn’t emotional coldness,it’s discipline forged by compassion he rarely shows. Levi’s character is a study in restraint: how someone can be the most formidable warrior in the room while carrying the heaviest heart.

Giyuu Tomioka [Demon Slayer]

Giyuu stands out through his silence. There’s a solemn dignity in how he carries his role—never boastful, rarely emotional, yet unfailingly kind beneath the stoicism. His strength is understated; it’s in the way he protects without expecting gratitude, in the discipline that borders on isolation. I admire how Giyuu’s distance isn’t indifference, it’s the cost of understanding too much loss. He’s the calm in the storm, the man who endures so others can breathe.

Arthur Leywin [The Beginning After the End]

Arthur fascinates me because he carries two lifetimes’ worth of weight and still chooses compassion. A king reborn into a second chance, he balances wisdom with youth in a way that feels both heroic and human. His power is undeniable, yet what defines him is his restraint, the way he wields strength without arrogance. Arthur’s story is one of redemption through rebirth, and it’s impossible not to root for him.

Kenshin Himura [Rurouni Kenshin]

Kenshin captivates me because he carries guilt like a second sword. A former assassin turned wanderer, his quest for redemption is quiet but relentless. What I love is how his gentleness doesn’t erase his past, it coexists with it, shaping his pacifism into something powerful. Kenshin’s restraint feels earned, not passive; he’s a man who’s fought every battle worth fighting and finally chooses peace, not because he’s weak, but because he understands its cost.

Byakuya Kuchiki [Bleach]

Byakuya is pride carved into perfection. Every word, every motion, every breath is measured, deliberate, and impossibly poised. He’s the type of man who commands respect before he ever demands it. What makes him problematic is his rigidity, the way duty overrides warmth, even when it breaks him. Loving Byakuya feels like loving a statue carved from grief and tradition, knowing it will never love you back in return, but being unable to look away all the same.

Thorfinn Karlsefni [Vinland Saga]

Thorfinn’s journey is brutal and beautiful. Once driven by vengeance, he evolves into a man searching for peace in a world built on violence. What moves me most is how his strength transforms, he learns that forgiveness takes more courage than killing. Thorfinn’s growth feels earned; it’s the kind of redemption that cuts deep.

Lan Wangji [The Untamed / Mo Dao Zu Shi]

Lan Wangji is dangerous in his stillness. On the surface, he’s discipline incarnate, reserved, principled, quiet, but beneath that restraint lies unshakeable passion. His devotion to Wei Wuxian borders on obsession, his love as rigid and as consuming as the rules he once upheld. There’s something both comforting and terrifying in that kind of loyalty. Loving Lan Wangji feels like admiring a storm contained within glass, beautiful, powerful, and impossible to touch without shattering.

The powerhouses

These are the characters who make strength look effortless. They’re loud, unyielding, and impossible to ignore, the kind of figures who dominate every space they enter. Whether through raw power or sheer will, they remind me that intensity can be both inspiring and terrifying.

Vegeta [Dragon Ball]

Vegeta fascinates me because his pride is both his flaw and his fuel. Every battle he fights is against himself as much as his enemies. I love how his arrogance evolves, not into humility, but into acceptance of strength that doesn’t need to dominate to exist. His growth from ruthless rival to devoted father and warrior makes him one of the most nuanced characters in shōnen history for me. Vegeta never loses his edge; he just learns where to aim it.

Kenpachi Zaraki [Bleach]

Kenpachi fascinates me because he turns brutality into philosophy. He’s a warrior who lives for combat, yet there’s something honest about his bloodlust; it’s pure, unpretentious, almost joyful. What makes him memorable is how his strength doesn’t come from technique but from an insatiable will to test his limits. Kenpachi’s violence isn’t random; it’s his way of existing, of proving that life only matters when you risk losing it. He’s terrifying, magnetic, and oddly poetic in his chaos.

Yami Sukehiro [Black Clover]

Yami embodies controlled chaos. He’s crude, blunt, and terrifyingly powerful, yet beneath the cigarette smoke and sarcasm is a leader who understands his squad better than they understand themselves. What makes Yami so magnetic is how he pushes others to surpass their limits while pretending he couldn’t care less. He’s equal parts mentor and menace, the kind of captain whose toughness is just his way of showing faith.

Alucard [Hellsing]

Alucard mesmerises me because he’s the embodiment of monstrous elegance. Immortal, powerful, and dripping in theatrical cruelty, he’s both predator and philosopher, killing not from need but from curiosity. Yet, beneath the arrogance and bloodlust is a profound boredom, a longing for someone who can truly challenge him. Alucard is terrifying because he understands humanity all too well and finds it both pitiful and fascinating. He’s the kind of character who makes you question whether monstrosity or self-awareness is more frightening.

Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez [Bleach]

Grimmjow is chaos in its purest form. Arrogant, violent, and self-assured to the point of absurdity, he thrives on conflict like it’s oxygen. Yet, there’s a strange purity in that brutality, he’s honest about who he is. I admire his refusal to bow, even when it destroys him. Grimmjow is everything reckless and impulsive that people are told to suppress, and maybe that’s why he’s so intoxicating to watch.

Tengen Uzui [Demon Slayer]

Tengen commands attention the moment he enters a scene. Flashy, loud, and larger than life, he turns extravagance into conviction. Beneath the confidence, though, lies a deep sense of care, he leads with pride, but fights with love. What captivates me most is how his flamboyance hides tenderness; his devotion to his wives and his comrades makes his strength feel multidimensional. Tengen isn’t just sound and spectacle; he’s heart wrapped in style.

Shizuo Heiwajima [Durarara!!]

Shizuo is violence with a conscience. He’s unpredictable, furious, and absurdly strong, yet he’s never cruel, just a man who can’t control his own power. What makes him compelling is that his anger feels rooted in self-loathing; he despises the destruction he causes even as he wields it. Shizuo’s volatility makes him terrifying, but his loyalty and decency make him impossible to write off. He’s proof that even chaos can have a moral compass.

Ikkaku Madarame [Bleach]

Ikkaku’s joy in battle is infectious. He’s brash, stubborn, and absurdly competitive, yet his loyalty to his squad runs deep. What makes him interesting is how his bravado hides humility; he doesn’t crave rank, only challenge. Ikkaku turns every fight into celebration, proving that passion can be its own kind of discipline.

The elegant and refined

Here are the characters who wield grace like a weapon. Their composure isn’t gentleness, it’s control. Every gesture, every word, is deliberate. Beneath the polish, though, there’s often loneliness or weariness, the quiet cost of maintaining perfection and it’s absolutely enthralling.

Sebastian Michaelis [Black Butler]

Sebastian captivates me because he embodies elegance weaponized. Every action, pouring tea, setting a trap, executing an order, is done with such calculated grace that it becomes performance art. He’s not human, but he understands human vanity and pride so intimately that he can outplay it with ease. What fascinates me most is that his loyalty to Ciel isn’t affection, it’s a contract; yet, within that cold dynamic, moments of genuine intrigue and mutual respect flicker. He’s the kind of character who reminds me how power can be terrifying when it’s dressed in civility, and how charm can be more dangerous than claws.

Hua Cheng [Heaven Official’s Blessing]

Hua Cheng fascinates me because he redefines devotion. Once a mortal who fell in love with a god, he rises from ruin as a ghost king yet never loses that singular, unwavering affection for Xie Lian. His love is fierce, protective, and eternal; neither selfless nor possessive, just absolute. I admire how his danger never overshadows his tenderness; his loyalty carries the weight of centuries but never feels heavy. Hua Cheng is the embodiment of love that endures even through death.

Callisto Regulus [Villains Are Destined to Die]

Callisto is charisma sharpened into a weapon. Arrogant, dangerous, and deeply wounded, he hides his vulnerability behind taunting smiles and cruel precision. What makes him so compelling is how aware he is of his own image, he performs monstrosity to keep his heart safe. Callisto is intoxicating because he’s both predator and protector, the kind of character who makes ruin look romantic.

Sesshomaru [Inuyasha]

Sesshomaru is elegance turned into weaponry. He’s cold, calculating, and terrifyingly beautiful, everything untouchable made flesh. What makes him problematic to love is precisely that distance; he moves through the world like a god bored of mortals, yet every small act of compassion from him hits harder than any grand gesture could. Sesshomaru is pride incarnate, but also the ache of someone who once looked down on humanity and learned to care despite himself.

Tomoe [Kamisama Kiss]

Tomoe exudes danger disguised as allure. A fox familiar with centuries of blood on his hands, he wears arrogance like perfume, sharp and intoxicating. His charm is deliberate, he knows exactly how devastating he is. But what makes him problematic isn’t his cruelty, it’s his tenderness, the way he lets emotion slip through his composure only for a moment. Tomoe’s love is possessive, ancient, and consuming; it’s the kind that makes you want to fall even though you know you’ll burn.

Dracule Mihawk [One Piece]

Mihawk fascinates me because he embodies stillness as power. Every movement is precise, every glance sharp enough to cut. His confidence is absolute, but never loud; he doesn’t need to prove himself. Mihawk’s elegance lies in his solitude.

The cheerful energisers

These characters carry light wherever they go. They’re not naïve, they simply refuse to stop hoping. Their laughter and stubborn optimism turn survival into art, and their warmth becomes contagious, even to those who don’t know how to return it.

Nai [Karneval]

Nai is innocence personified, but not naïve. He moves through the world with wonder that never feels forced, it’s a natural extension of his empathy. What makes him stand out is how his gentleness challenges everyone around him; he disarms cruelty without ever meaning to. Nai’s purity doesn’t exist in opposition to darkness; it coexists with it, quietly illuminating every space he touches.

Sanosuke Sagara [Rurouni Kenshin]

Sanosuke is grit with a grin. Reckless, stubborn, and endlessly loyal, he stands as Kenshin’s foil and brother-in-arms. His strength lies in his heart rather than his technique, he fights because he believes. Sanosuke’s simplicity is refreshing; he’s proof that being earnest is its own kind of power.

The devoted and loyal

This section belongs to the ones who stay. Whether out of love, duty, or sheer conviction, they hold their ground beside those they believe in. Their loyalty isn’t loud, but it’s absolute, a promise kept through every setback and every storm.

Jinoo [Solo Leveling]

Jinoo’s arc fascinates me because it captures the human cost of heroism. Overshadowed by Sung Jinwoo yet never insignificant, his courage feels real; ordinary, raw, and often terrified. What I admire most is how he stays grounded amid gods and monsters. Jinoo reminds me that bravery isn’t absence of fear, but choosing to stand next to someone stronger and still fight anyway.

Hak Son [Yona of the Dawn]

Hak’s loyalty burns quietly. A warrior bound by love and duty, he guards Yona with unwavering resolve yet never loses his playful edge. What draws me to him is his restraint, his affection is fierce but never possessive. Hak’s strength isn’t just physical; it’s emotional endurance, the kind that holds steady through heartbreak and hope alike.

Makoto Sunakawa [My Love Story!!]

Sunakawa embodies friendship in its purest form. Gentle, perceptive, and quietly selfless, he supports Takeo without ever seeking attention for it. What I adore is how he finds contentment in simply being kind, his calm isn’t apathy; it’s emotional intelligence. Sunakawa reminds me that love doesn’t always need romance to matter deeply. He’s proof that still waters really do run deep.

Makoto Tachibana [Free!]

Makoto radiates gentleness. His warmth balances Haru’s intensity, and his patience anchors every scene he’s in. What I love is how his kindness never reads as weakness; he protects, supports, and encourages without losing himself. Makoto’s strength is empathy in motion, a steady current that keeps everyone else afloat.

Maes Hughes [Fullmetal Alchemist]

Maes Hughes stands out because he represents the rare kind of goodness that feels real. Amidst alchemists, soldiers, and schemers, he’s a reminder of what they’re all fighting for; family, laughter, and connection. His constant bragging about his daughter is both comedic and heartbreaking in retrospect, turning him into the emotional heartbeat of the series. Hughes’s death still hurts me because he wasn’t extraordinary in power, just in warmth, and that makes his absence echo louder than any explosion.

Hide Nagachika [Tokyo Ghoul]

I love Hide because he represents the kind of quiet strength that doesn’t need power to matter. In a world divided by monsters and fear, he remains wholly, stubbornly human, and that humanity is his superpower. He’s intuitive in ways that cut past masks and lies, seeing people (especially Kaneki) for who they are rather than what they’ve become. What makes him unforgettable isn’t any dramatic fight or reveal, it’s the way he chooses compassion over survival, loyalty over safety, truth over ignorance. Hide is the kind of character who reminds me that gentleness can be defiant, and that sometimes, the strongest person in a dark story is the one who still chooses to care.

Jūshirō Ukitake [Bleach]

Ukitake radiates calm wisdom. Illness softens him but never weakens his conviction; he leads through compassion, not command. What draws me to him is how he embodies grace under limitation, he’s powerful because he knows exactly when not to fight. Ukitake’s serenity feels earned, the peace of someone who has seen too much and still chooses gentleness.

Shirou Ashiya [The Devil is a Part-Timer!]

Ashiya is devotion made domestic. As Maou’s most loyal servant, he takes his role far too seriously, and that’s what makes him delightful. His dedication to maintaining their home borders on religious, his loyalty absolute. Ashiya represents the humour in sincerity; he’s so earnest it loops back around to admirable.

The fiery and passionate

These are characters who burn brightly and never quietly. They live through emotion, conviction, and pride, often to the point of recklessness. Every decision comes from the heart, and that’s what makes them impossible to forget.

Renji Abarai [Bleach]

Renji’s charm is in his contradictions: fierce yet insecure, loyal yet impulsive. He’s the kind of man who punches his way through emotion because he doesn’t know how else to feel it. What makes him problematic is that I can’t help but love how hard he tries, even when he fails. His confidence wavers, his temper flares, but his heart is never in question. Renji makes imperfection look beautifulLaw’s cool composure hides an undercurrent of pain and purpose that I find endlessly compelling. His intelligence and tactical mind are obvious, but what grips me is the quiet way he carries grief, turning trauma into strategy, loss into resolve.

Kyoujurou Rengoku [Demon Slayer]

Kyoujurou shouldn’t be problematic, but loving him hurts like it is. His fire burns so brightly it leaves nothing behind, not even himself. He’s everything noble and good and self-sacrificing, and maybe that’s the problem. I admire him to the point it feels self-destructive. His optimism is beautiful but unbearable, the kind that makes you cry because you know it can’t last. Loving Rengoku feels like watching light flicker out and pretending you’re not being burned by it.

Roy Mustang [Fullmetal Alchemist]

Roy Mustang commands attention through sheer presence. Charismatic, calculating, and burdened by ambition, he walks the thin line between hero and politician with unnerving grace. I love how his confidence is tempered by guilt, how the “Flame Alchemist” who burned lives to win a war now burns with the need to change the system that created him. He’s charming, flawed, and disciplined, a reminder that leadership means bearing your sins without letting them consume you.

Portgas D. Ace [One Piece]

Ace breaks my heart every time I think about him. He’s reckless, stubborn, and too proud for his own good, but that’s exactly what makes him shine. His fire isn’t just his power; it’s his personality, burning bright and brief. What makes him problematic is how much I love a man who can’t stop running towards his own destruction. Ace’s loyalty and self-worth issues make him tragically real, the kind of character you mourn long after he’s gone.

Karma Akabane [Assassination Classroom]

Karma is intellect without restraint. He’s sharp, sadistic, and frighteningly self-assured, a prodigy who uses wit as a weapon. What makes him problematic is how satisfying it is to watch him toy with others, how his cruelty feels justified when aimed at hypocrisy. Beneath the smirk, though, is a keen sense of justice twisted by boredom and brilliance. Karma’s unpredictability is intoxicating; the kind that makes you root for him even when you shouldn’t.

The outcasts and wanderers

This group belongs to those who live on the edges, travellers, loners, and lost souls who never quite fit where they’re meant to. Their stories are quieter but never empty; they find purpose in motion and connection in unlikely places.

Sven Vollfied [Black Cat]

Sven captivates me because he’s the moral compass in a world that’s forgotten what direction means. A sweeper with a sharp mind and a tired heart, he navigates danger with weary wit and a gentleman’s code that feels almost old-fashioned. What I love most is how his cynicism never fully kills his hope, he’s jaded sure, but he still believes in doing right, even when it costs him. Sven’s charm lies in quiet persistence; he’s proof that decency can survive even in the company of killers.

Gareki [Karneval]

Gareki is intellect wrapped in armour. A thief turned reluctant hero, he’s sceptical to a fault, but his caution comes from experience rather than coldness. What makes him magnetic is the slow thaw, the way kindness surprises him every time. Gareki’s cynicism feels earned, but his compassion feels revolutionary. He’s the kind of realist who can’t help caring despite himself.

Nezumi [No. 6]

Nezumi’s sharpness is as emotional as it is intellectual. Every cynical remark hides a tenderness he refuses to acknowledge. What makes him so compelling is the conflict between his mistrust and his longing for connection. Nezumi’s defiance feels personal, like he’s constantly daring the world to love him despite himself, and it’s impossible not to.

Gin [Hotarubi no Mori e]

Gin’s existence feels like a fleeting dream. Bound by fragility, every gesture he makes is deliberate, precious. What I find moving is how his gentleness turns tragedy into beauty, his love story isn’t long, but it lingers. Gin reminds me that connection doesn’t need time to be profound; sometimes moments are enough.

Hyakkimaru [Dororo]

Hyakkimaru is tragedy turned perseverance. Born without senses, he fights to reclaim his humanity piece by piece. What I find powerful is how his determination never loses empathy; even as he battles demons, he remains kind. Hyakkimaru’s story is raw resilience, a quiet reminder that reclaiming oneself is the greatest victory.

Ash Lynx [Banana Fish]

Ash is tragedy wrapped in beauty. A prodigy shaped by violence, he wields intelligence and brutality with haunting grace. What makes him unforgettable is his vulnerability, how his longing for freedom and love cuts through the cynicism. Ash is the kind of character who breaks your heart simply by surviving as long as he does.

Yato [Noragami]

Yato is the kind of character who shouldn’t be endearing, but somehow is. A god of calamity who takes five-yen jobs and leaves a trail of chaos, he’s selfish, childish, and occasionally terrifying. Yet behind every joke and grin is a thousand years of loneliness. What draws me to him is that contradiction, the absurd humour covering existential despair. Yato is a mess of contradictions: divine and desperate, ruthless and loving, hilarious and haunted.

Train Heartnet [Black Cat]

Train’s freedom is intoxicating. Once an assassin defined by duty, he reinvents himself as a bounty hunter chasing laughter instead of orders. What draws me to him is how effortlessly he blends danger with levity. Train’s smile isn’t carelessness, it’s liberation. He’s the rare killer who chooses joy over vengeance.

The quiet observers

Here are the characters who say little but notice everything. They aren’t passive; they’re simply selective. Their calm and introspection hold stories that often go untold, and their silence speaks in ways louder characters can’t.

Kenma Kozume [Haikyuu!!]

Kenma intrigues me because he’s brilliance disguised as apathy. Quiet, observant, and introverted, he treats volleyball like a puzzle rather than a sport. Yet, when the game heats up, his subtle fire shines. Kenma’s calm is deceptive, he’s every bit as intense as Kuroo, just in a softer register. He reminds me that strategy can be passion in disguise.

Megumi Fushiguro [Jujutsu Kaisen]

Megumi intrigues me because his calm hides a depth of conflict he rarely voices. He’s logical, collected, and introverted, yet his sense of justice is intensely personal. His technique, calling upon shadows and shikigami, feels like a mirror to his temperament: restrained, elegant, but deadly when unleashed. What stands out is how his quiet morality contrasts Gojo’s flamboyance; Megumi represents the quiet burden of doing the right thing even when no one sees it.

Shota Kazehaya [Kimi ni Todoke]

Kazehaya is pure sincerity. His kindness isn’t performative, it’s instinctive, effortless. He’s the boy who notices the quiet girl, not out of pity but genuine curiosity. What I love is how his optimism never feels naïve; it’s grounded in empathy. Kazehaya’s warmth makes decency look extraordinary.

Sai [Naruto]

Sai’s awkwardness is what makes him endearing. Trained to suppress emotion, he approaches friendship like an unfamiliar language, stumbling but sincere. His blunt honesty and quiet growth turn him from a weapon into a person. Sai’s story isn’t loud, but it’s quietly healing, proof that connection can thaw even the coldest conditioning.

Hirotaka Nifuji [Wotakoi: Love is Hard for Otaku]

Hirotaka’s appeal lies in his composure. Stoic, witty, and quietly affectionate, he embodies the subtle stability of an introvert in love. What I admire is how his affection is steady, not showy; his care appears in small gestures rather than declarations. Hirotaka is comfort made character, a reminder that connection can thrive in quiet understanding.

Ryu Sanada [Kimi ni Todoke]

Ryu is understated strength. He doesn’t speak much, but his loyalty speaks volumes. What I love most is how his affection is quiet yet unwavering, he supports from the sidelines without ever needing the spotlight. Ryu’s sincerity feels rare; he’s proof that steadiness can be as powerful as passion.

The Reluctant Heroes

These are the ones who never asked to be brave. Fear, doubt, or exhaustion sit at their core, yet they step forward anyway. Their courage is messy and human, proof that being afraid doesn’t mean being weak.

Zenitsu Agatsuma [Demon Slayer]

Zenitsu fascinates me because he embodies fear turned into courage. His constant panic could have been comic relief alone, but it’s his perseverance that transforms it into something meaningful. Even in terror, he chooses to fight, to live up to a promise no one else remembers. His thunderclap speed contrasts his trembling heart perfectly, showing that bravery isn’t the absence of fear, but the act of facing it anyway.

The wild cards

Unpredictable, volatile, and unforgettable, these are the characters who turn every scene into chaos and I love them for it. They don’t follow plans or logic; they follow impulse, and that’s what makes them dangerous, fascinating, and sometimes heartbreakingly real.

Inosuke Hashibira [Demon Slayer]

Inosuke captivates me with his wild sincerity. He’s raw, brash, and unrefined, yet everything he does comes from an earnest desire to grow stronger and belong. Beneath the aggression is a vulnerable curiosity, a boy who learned survival before affection. I love how his journey isn’t about taming his ferocity but learning to wield it with intention. Inosuke’s honesty and energy give the story life, reminding me how strength can coexist with innocence.

Killua Zoldyck [Hunter x Hunter]

Killua’s complexity lies in his duality, child and assassin, friend and weapon. His sharp wit and quiet sensitivity make him magnetic, but what makes him unforgettable is his yearning for freedom. He’s a boy raised in darkness who learns to define his own morality through friendship. Killua’s intelligence and humour never fully mask the sadness of his past, yet he never stops moving forward. He’s one of the most beautifully written portrayals of self-discovery through loyalty.

Denji [Chainsaw Man]

Denji is raw, unfiltered survival. He’s selfish, impulsive, and painfully human, driven by hunger; literal and emotional. What makes him compelling is how transparent he is; he doesn’t pretend to be noble, just desperate to live a little better than yesterday. Denji’s chaos isn’t meaningless, it’s the messiness of someone finally allowed to want.

Speed-o’-Sound Sonic [One-Punch Man]

Sonic’s arrogance is addictive. He’s fast, proud, and utterly obsessed with besting Saitama, even when it’s hopeless. What I love about him is his persistence—his ego is ridiculous, but his determination is real. Sonic’s vanity becomes endearing over time; he’s the kind of rival who refuses to give up, even when the universe itself laughs at him.

Juuzou Suzuya [Tokyo Ghoul]

Juuzou captivates me because he’s chaos made human, but not without reason. His trauma runs so deep it reshaped him, turning pain into numbness and fear into fascination. Yet as the story progresses, you see glimmers of growth, of someone slowly, awkwardly relearning empathy in a world that taught him none. He’s a character who refuses to be tragic or redeemed outright; he just is, raw and unsettling, brilliant and broken in the same breath. I love how he challenges the idea of what recovery looks like, how it’s not always soft or linear, but messy, sharp-edged, and ongoing.

The misunderstood and redeemed

This section belongs to the misread and misjudged, the ones whose mistakes or origins define them before their actions do. They don’t ask for sympathy, only the chance to be seen clearly. Their redemption isn’t about perfection; it’s about honesty.

Wei Wuxian [The Untamed / Mo Dao Zu Shi]

Wei Wuxian embodies chaos in its most seductive form. He’s reckless, brilliant, unrestrained, untamed; a man who laughs in the face of authority and breaks the moral order because he refuses to watch the innocent suffer. He’s a walking contradiction: saviour and heretic, hero and monster. What makes him problematic is that his defiance always carries a cost, and he knows it. Yet he still smiles, still chooses the hard path. Wei Wuxian is everything society fears in a man who won’t apologise for his freedom.

Gowther [Seven Deadly Sins]

Gowther is unsettling because he feels so close to emotion without ever fully grasping it. An artificial being who studies humanity from the outside, his detachment is both clinical and tragic. I find him fascinating precisely because he’s unpredictable. empathetic one moment, heartless the next. He mirrors what we fear about ourselves: the idea that intellect and feeling don’t always align, and that sometimes understanding love isn’t the same as feeling it.

Bam [Tower of God]

Bam represents purity forged in hardship. His compassion is his strength, not his weakness, and that’s what sets him apart in a world obsessed with survival. I love how his kindness feels deliberate, he chooses empathy even after betrayal. Bam’s evolution from innocence to quiet power is mesmerising; he’s proof that resilience doesn’t have to be ruthless to be strong.

Gaara [Naruto]

Gaara’s journey remains one of the most striking transformations I’ve seen. Once consumed by isolation and rage, he evolves into a man who finds purpose through peace rather than power. His control over sand mirrors his control over self; a discipline earned through immense pain. I admire how he embodies redemption without losing his edge, how compassion never dulls his authority. Gaara represents the idea that healing doesn’t erase what came before; it reshapes it into wisdom.

Shoto Todoroki [My Hero Academia]

Shoto Todoroki fascinates me because he’s the perfect storm of restraint and rebellion. Born from trauma and expectation, he carries his father’s ambition and his mother’s pain like twin burdens. What makes him so magnetic is the way he refuses to be defined by either. Beneath the stoic exterior lies a simmering anger that never fully cools, no matter how much ice he conjures. I know he’s meant to be balanced and composed, yet there’s something deeply unsteady about him, and that tension is what makes him so dangerously compelling.

Meruem [Hunter x Hunter]

Meruem is fascination born from fear. A creature created for dominance who learns empathy, he’s both monster and philosopher. What captivates me is how his humanity grows not from weakness, but from curiosity. His bond with Komugi turns the concept of strength on its head. Meruem’s arc is proof that evolution can begin with a single act of compassion.

Ray [The Promised Neverland]

Ray is terrifying in how composed he is for a child. He plans, calculates, and sacrifices with a maturity that shouldn’t exist at his age. His brilliance comes from trauma; his self-worth is tied to control. Yet, I can’t help admiring his resolve, his quiet intelligence wrapped around such deep pain. Ray is the kind of character who reminds me that survival can be its own form of rebellion, even when it hurts to watch.

Yamato Kurosawa [Say “I Love You.”]

Yamato is warmth personified. Kind, grounded, and patient, he navigates love with emotional intelligence rare in shōjo leads. What I love is how he respects space as much as affection, his sincerity never smothers. Yamato represents gentleness without fragility, the kind of character who restores your faith in kindness.

Neji Hyuga [Naruto]

Neji has always been the kind of character I can’t stop thinking about, even knowing how bitter and arrogant he begins. His fatalism, his resentment, his brilliance, everything about him feels like someone who was too aware of the world’s unfairness too young. What makes him problematic isn’t his ideology, but how understandable it is. He believed the system was unbreakable, and in some ways, he wasn’t wrong. His death still stings, partly because he’d just started unlearning the chains that made him fascinating in the first place.

The supernatural oddities

These are beings who exist slightly out of step with the world, part human, part something else entirely. Their strangeness isn’t a gimmick; it’s a lens for seeing humanity from the outside. They make the uncanny feel intimate.

Lucifer [The Devil is a Part-Timer!]

Lucifer is a disaster wrapped in sarcasm. Petty, lazy, and somehow still likeable, he turns failure into comedy. What draws me to him is how his self-awareness keeps him from being intolerable. He knows he’s a mess and leans into it. Lucifer’s selfishness feels honest, and that authenticity makes him strangely refreshing.

Kusuo Saiki [The Disastrous Life of Saiki K.]

Saiki is a comedy of restraint. A psychic with godlike powers and zero desire for attention, he’s the perfect blend of boredom and brilliance. What makes him so entertaining is how his cynicism never fully eclipses his empathy; beneath the deadpan exterior lies someone who cares far more than he admits. Saiki’s apathy feels like survival, a way to stay sane in a world too loud for someone who sees everything.

Xie Lian [Heaven Official’s Blessing]

Xie Lian is grace tempered by hardship. Once a beloved prince, now a god fallen from favour, he carries centuries of loss with quiet dignity and humour. What draws me to him is how his kindness never falters, even after endless failure. He’s a portrait of resilience, the kind that’s gentle, not loud, and shines brighter because it’s been tested. Xie Lian’s compassion feels radical in its persistence; he’s the kind of character who turns pain into faith, not bitterness.

Sadao Maou [The Devil is a Part-Timer!]

Sadao is chaos turned domestic. Once a demon lord, now a part-time fast-food worker, he balances absurd comedy with genuine humility. What makes him fascinating is how easily he adapts, his fall from power doesn’t humiliate him, it humanises him. Maou’s charm lies in watching ultimate power learn empathy through everyday life.

Beelzebub [Beelzebub]

Beelzebub is chaos distilled. A demon baby with unstoppable power and absurd cuteness, he turns every situation into mayhem. Yet beneath the comedy is genuine charm, his attachment to Oga makes the destruction almost sweet. Beelzebub reminds me that even in chaos, affection can be wildly endearing.

The gentle giants

This section is for the quiet protectors, the ones who could destroy but choose instead to shield. They carry compassion in strength and patience in power, proving that gentleness is its own kind of force.

Yasutora Sado (Chad) [Bleach]

Chad embodies quiet power. He rarely speaks, but every word carries integrity. His strength isn’t in his fists, it’s in his refusal to use them without purpose. I love how his moral compass never wavers, even surrounded by supernatural madness. Chad is loyalty personified, proof that kindness can be unshakeable.

Tony Tony Chopper [One Piece]

Chopper’s innocence is what makes him shine. A reindeer turned doctor, he carries a child’s wonder and a healer’s compassion, balancing humour and heartbreak with ease. I admire how his curiosity is never undermined by fear; he approaches danger with the same sincerity he gives to medicine. Chopper embodies kindness without fragility, proof that empathy and courage can coexist beautifully, even in the wildest world.

Totoro [My Neighbour Totoro]

Totoro feels like childhood given shape, wordless wonder wrapped in fur and forest air. He’s not heroic in the traditional sense; he simply exists as comfort incarnate, reminding you what it’s like to feel safe in the unknown. Totoro represents the magic of stillness, the peace found in simply being.

Ken Ryuguji (Draken) [Tokyo Revengers]

Draken’s presence commands respect without force. He’s calm, disciplined, and fiercely loyal, the spine that keeps his gang from collapsing. What captivates me is his balance; he can throw a punch or offer a hand with equal conviction. Draken’s strength lies not in dominance, but in the quiet authority of someone who genuinely cares.

The eccentric geniuses

Brilliant, obsessive, and often unbalanced, these characters see the world through angles no one else can. Their creativity borders on madness, and their genius costs them comfort. They remind me that understanding everything doesn’t always make life easier.

Franken Stein [Soul Eater]

Dr. Franken Stein mesmerises me through his unsettling calm. Brilliant, detached, and dangerously curious, he studies life the way a surgeon studies anatomy—clinical yet fascinated. His obsession with dissection reflects his struggle between morality and madness. What I find compelling is how he never loses his intellect even as he teeters on the edge of instability. Stein represents the idea that genius and madness often share the same spark, and that understanding something completely can sometimes mean losing yourself to it.

Kite [Hunter x Hunter]

Kite stands out through his calm moral compass in a chaotic world. He’s analytical but not detached, curious but principled. His mentorship of Gon shows a quiet respect for life and consequence, a rare balance in Hunter x Hunter. I admire how he confronts mortality not with fear, but with acceptance. Even after his loss, his influence shapes the story’s emotional core. Kite’s presence lingers because he embodies rational kindness, the strength to act without cruelty.

Reg [Made in Abyss]

Reg is innocence forced to mature too quickly. Half-machine, half-child, he wrestles with guilt and purpose in a world too cruel for either. What makes him unforgettable is how human he remains despite his mechanical nature. He feels fear, hope, and love with raw honesty. Reg’s compassion makes every painful moment hit harder; he’s proof that kindness can survive even in the deepest abyss.

Sherlock Holmes [Moriarty the Patriot]

Sherlock is chaos refined into brilliance. He’s observant to the point of obsession, reckless in his methods, and yet utterly magnetic in his pursuit of truth. What I love about him is how his arrogance never fully erases his humanity; beneath the bravado lies a mind that genuinely wants to understand people, not just outsmart them. Sherlock’s charm is that his genius feels lived-in, messy, curious, and unapologetically alive.

Death the Kid [Soul Eater]

Death the Kid intrigues me with his symmetry-obsessed perfectionism. Every detail of his existence revolves around balance, order, and aesthetic control, yet beneath that rigidity lies genuine care and insecurity. His composure cracks just enough to remind you he’s still growing. What makes him fascinating is how his quest for symmetry mirrors his search for self-control; a blend of intellect, artistry, and vulnerability that makes his meticulousness feel almost tender.

The scrappy fighters

These are the ones who refuse to stay down. They don’t have the natural advantages, the perfect technique, or the overwhelming power, but they fight anyway with everything they’ve got. Their strength comes from stubbornness, heart, and the refusal to accept limitations. They’re messy, determined, and prove that grit can rival grace. Watching them claw their way forward, even when outmatched, is what makes them impossible not to root for.

Edward Elric [Fullmetal Alchemist]

Edward captures me through his relentless pursuit of truth, not perfection. He’s a prodigy, yes, but what makes him stand out is how grounded he remains in morality, even when the world around him falls apart. His determination to correct his mistakes without losing his humanity makes him deeply admirable. Edward’s brilliance, stubbornness, and sense of justice fuse into a character who grows not by gaining power, but by learning humility and empathy along the way.

Rin Okumura [Blue Exorcist]

Rin draws me in because he embodies defiance turned into purpose. Half-human, half-demon, he spends most of his story trying to reconcile both sides of himself without losing either. What makes him stand out is how his impulsive warmth constantly battles his destructive potential. He’s loud, reckless, and far from graceful, yet every outburst is rooted in an earnest need to protect others. Rin’s power may come from Satan, but his strength comes from choice, and that tension between chaos and compassion is what makes him unforgettable.

Kazuma Kuwabara [Yu Yu Hakusho]

Kuwabara is loyalty personified. Brash, loud, and full of heart, he’s the kind of character who feels like home. Beneath the bluster is unshakable integrity; he fights for his friends without hesitation. Kuwabara’s strength isn’t his power, it’s his conviction. He’s the beating heart of the team, equal parts humour and honour.

Shoyo Hinata [Haikyuu!!]

Hinata’s energy is infectious. He’s small in stature but unstoppable in spirit, the embodiment of passion that refuses to acknowledge limits. What I love most is how his optimism isn’t naïve; it’s hard-earned, sharpened by every loss and every jump that doesn’t quite reach. Hinata turns ambition into art; his determination makes even the simplest rally feel monumental. He’s proof that joy can be competitive, and that heart often outpaces height.

Keisuke Baji [Tokyo Revengers]

Baji is pure instinct. Reckless, charismatic, and unbreakably loyal, he lives by emotion alone. What makes him so striking is how his chaos has purpose, he’s wild, but never aimless. Baji’s fire burns bright and brief, the kind of character who embodies the heartbreak of passion that refuses to compromise.

Mumen Rider [One Punch Man]

Mumen Rider is ridiculous, earnest, and completely sincere, and that’s exactly why I love him. He has no powers, no fame, no guarantee of survival, yet he rides into battle every time because someone has to. There’s something beautifully unhinged about his courage, the way he hurls himself into defeat with full conviction. He’s a hero in the most hopeless sense: flawed, powerless, and utterly admirable because he refuses to stop trying.

The cool and composed

These are the calm centres of chaos, steady, stylish, and in control even when everything else unravels. They embody quiet confidence, not arrogance, and their strength lies in restraint rather than display.

Soei [That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime]

Soei represents the beauty of precision. Silent, efficient, and endlessly composed, he’s the calm that balances Rimuru’s energy. What I love most is how his devotion isn’t loud; it’s shown through action, every movement deliberate and respectful. Soei’s presence feels like still water; reflective, powerful, and deeply grounding.

Loke [Fairy Tail]

Loke’s charm is almost unfair. A celestial spirit masquerading as a suave mage, he hides a deep loneliness beneath the easy smile and flirtatious wit. What captivates me is how his warmth never feels false; even when he performs confidence, there’s sincerity behind it. Loke’s loyalty and quiet melancholy make him far more than comic relief, he’s proof that light can be seductive without being shallow.

Tōshirō Hitsugaya [Bleach]

I’ve always admired how Hitsugaya embodies restraint without losing intensity. His composure isn’t the absence of emotion, it’s discipline honed through expectation and pressure. Beneath that stoic exterior is someone constantly striving to live up to his own impossible standards, someone who leads not because he craves authority but because he refuses to let others down. Even his power feels symbolic: ice as both protection and isolation, beauty and burden. What draws me in most is how he navigates that balance, brilliant yet still learning, composed yet burning with purpose. For all his youth, he carries himself like a veteran, and that quiet duality makes him unforgettable.

Gray Fullbuster [Fairy Tail]

I’m drawn to how Gray balances creation and control. His Ice-Make magic isn’t just offence, it’s artistry under pressure, shaping shields, blades, and beasts with a craftsman’s precision. What seals it for me is the quiet resolve beneath the rivalry banter and the Devil Slayer power-up; he’s a character who turns grief into discipline and loyalty into action. Whether he’s clashing with Natsu or protecting his guild, Gray’s growth reads as steady, earned, and deeply human, the kind of “cool” that’s more about composure than swagger, which is exactly why he sticks with me.

Yuno [Black Clover]

Yuno fascinates me through quiet ambition. He doesn’t boast or break composure; his confidence is silent and precise. What I admire is how his rivalry with Asta isn’t about superiority, but self-betterment. Every spell he casts feels like an extension of his resolve. Yuno’s elegance lies in control, he’s proof that determination doesn’t have to shout to be unstoppable.

Rogue Cheney [Fairy Tail]

Rogue captivates me through subtlety. Stoic and composed, he contrasts Sting’s brightness with quiet introspection. What makes him stand out is how his calm hides depth, his loyalty runs deep, and his power feels born from restraint rather than aggression. Rogue’s darkness isn’t corruption; it’s focus. He embodies balance, the rare mix of shadow and grace.

Chuuya Nakahara [Bungo Stray Dogs]

Chuuya commands attention through controlled chaos. Sharp-tongued and sharp-dressed, he’s equal parts fury and finesse. What makes him magnetic is the way his temper never fully eclipses his honour; every punch and insult carries purpose. His rivalry with Dazai feels like gravity; inevitable, dangerous, and oddly intimate. Chuuya is proof that elegance and volatility can coexist perfectly.

Sakyo [Yu Yu Hakusho]

Sakyo intrigues me because he’s calm in catastrophe. He views destruction as design, gambling with lives as though each move were a brushstroke. There’s something magnetic about how still he remains while everything burns, as if chaos only confirms his philosophy. His elegance is austerity, his morality an afterthought. Sakyo embodies the beauty of detachment taken too far, intellect hollowed by emptiness.

The professionals

This section belongs to those who treat discipline as art. They’re pragmatic, capable, and efficient , the kind of characters who get things done without needing recognition. Their composure might look cold, but it’s usually just focus.

Trafalgar Law [One Piece]

Law captivates me because precision defines him. Every action, from battle plans to emotional boundaries, feels measured, deliberate in a world that thrives on chaos. He’s rational without being heartless, loyal without being naïve, and his composure hides a loyalty that runs bone-deep. What I love most is that his calm isn’t detachment; it’s focus. He operates with the quiet intensity of someone who knows exactly what he’s willing to fight for, and what it costs him each time he does.

Freed Justine [Fairy Tail]

Freed blends elegance and edge. A strategist and swordsman with an artist’s heart, he radiates calm intensity. What I find compelling is his devotion, to his guild, to his captain, to the codes he writes in battle. Freed’s magic mirrors his personality: structured, precise, and quietly powerful. He’s discipline made beautiful.

Genos [One Punch Man]

Genos fascinates me because he’s built for destruction yet yearns for purpose. His mechanical perfection contrasts with his emotional impulsiveness, and that tension makes him deeply human despite his cybernetic frame. He’s loyal to a fault, reckless in devotion, and driven by vengeance that never truly satisfies him. I admire his focus even when it borders on obsession, he’s the kind of character who’d burn himself out chasing meaning, and I can’t help but respect that.

Kento Nanami [Jujutsu Kaisen]

Nanami resonates with me for his groundedness in a world that thrives on chaos. He treats exorcism like a profession, not a crusade, balancing precision with humanity. His weariness feels deeply relatable, the kind of fatigue that comes from doing the right thing even when no one notices. Nanami’s integrity and restraint make him quietly magnetic; he’s proof that reliability can be just as compelling as recklessness.

Shota Aizawa [My Hero Academia]

Aizawa’s tired eyes and dry tone mask one of the most steadfast hearts in the series. He’s the kind of teacher who never needs to say how much he cares, you see it in how he acts. His pragmatism, his subtle humour, and his absolute faith in his students all make him one of my favourites. What I love most is how he embodies quiet heroism; no grand speeches, no spotlight, just consistency, integrity, and resolve.

U-1146 [Cells at Work!]

U-1146 turns the human body into a battlefield, and somehow makes it cool. He’s stoic, efficient, and relentless, yet never loses his humanity. What I love is how his calm professionalism contrasts the chaos around him, he’s a soldier of biology, but his compassion always shows through the duty. Even covered in blood and grit, he represents diligence done with care. U-1146 is discipline made endearing; a reminder that even the smallest unseen work can be heroic.

Doppo Kunikida [Bungo Stray Dogs]

Kunikida fascinates me because he treats order like faith. Every line in his notebook is a vow, every plan a promise to a world he’s determined to keep from falling apart. What I love is how his rigidity hides deep compassion; his ideals aren’t vanity, they’re a way to stay steady when everything else bends. He’s the kind of man who measures himself against the impossible and still refuses to lower the bar. Watching him balance conviction with care feels like watching a perfectionist try to protect something fragile, and that’s exactly why he stands out to me.

The charming rogues

Smooth talkers, rule-breakers, and shameless flirts, these are characters who live by charm and instinct. They might lie, tease, or bend the rules, but there’s always a spark of sincerity under the swagger.

Staz Charlie Blood [Blood Lad]

Staz is chaos with charisma. A vampire obsessed with human culture, he’s eccentric and passionate in equal measure. What I love is how his laziness hides genius; when he’s motivated, he’s unstoppable. Staz’s obsession with life and death feels like rebellion against stagnation, he’s a reminder that curiosity is its own form of vitality.

Lubbock [Akame ga Kill!]

Lubbock hides sincerity behind smirks. Playful and flirty, he masks sharp intelligence with humour, but when it counts, he’s utterly dependable. What stands out to me is how he embodies loyalty with reckless grace, always ready to die for a cause, but never losing his light-heartedness along the way. Lubbock’s charm is in that balance of wit and devotion.

Langa Hasegawa [SK8 the Infinity]

Langa’s calm contrasts beautifully with the chaos of skating. Graceful and reserved, he turns speed into serenity, every movement fluid and thoughtful. What draws me to him is how he rediscovers joy through connection, his friendship with Reki reignites a passion he didn’t know he’d lost. Langa’s artistry on the board reflects his heart: patient, precise, and quietly daring.

Takumi Usui [Maid-sama!]

Takumi captures that delicate balance between arrogance and devotion. He’s confident to the point of infuriating, but his teasing is never cruel, it’s how he bridges the gap between his composed exterior and genuine affection. What I love is how he reads people with unnerving accuracy yet chooses kindness over manipulation. Usui’s charm is effortless, but his loyalty is what makes him enduring; he’s the calm in Misaki’s storm, the type of character who wins you over by proving that love can be both playful and steadfast.

Osamu Dazai [Bungo Stray Dogs]

Dazai is the definition of a problematic favourite. Suicidal, sardonic, brilliant; he’s a man whose humour masks despair so deep it becomes performance. What makes him irresistible is his duality: genius detective and chaotic nihilist, saviour and saboteur. He flirts with death as easily as he manipulates people, and yet, he’s profoundly empathetic in ways he’ll never admit. Dazai is a character who embodies contradiction so completely it becomes art.

The mystical and magical

Here live the beings who feel like folklore given form. Their power hums rather than shouts, threaded with wonder or quiet divinity. They bring softness to magic, making the supernatural feel almost tender.

Benimaru [That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime]

Benimaru captivates me as the epitome of composure and power intertwined. He’s fiery in spirit yet measured in command, a warrior whose respect is earned, not demanded. What I love is how he bridges humility with might, his loyalty to Rimuru isn’t submission but trust. Benimaru’s leadership carries quiet authority, his actions always deliberate, his words sparing but meaningful. He’s proof that strength can exist without arrogance.

Calcifer [Howl’s Moving Castle]

Calcifer shouldn’t be as endearing as he is, he’s a literal demon bound by contract, but his sarcasm and warmth make him impossible not to adore. He’s the soul of cynicism and the heart of the story all at once. What makes him problematic is how relatable his exhaustion feels; he’s dramatic, petty, and tired of carrying other people’s fires, yet he still burns for them.

Touya Kinomoto [Cardcaptor Sakura]

Touya’s warmth lies in his restraint. Protective and teasing in equal measure, he manages to convey care with the smallest gestures. What captivates me is his maturity, how he watches over those he loves without ever needing to announce it. Touya represents quiet strength: steadfast, patient, and endlessly dependable, the kind of presence that steadies rather than commands.

Frosh [Fairy Tail]

Frosh is pure comfort. Sweet, soft-spoken, and wonderfully earnest, they bring lightness to a world filled with chaos. What I adore is how Frosh’s innocence never feels shallow, it’s genuine kindness in its simplest form. Their optimism is disarming, reminding me that even in battle-heavy stories, sincerity still matters. Frosh is the kind of character who makes the world gentler just by existing.

The gothic and macabre

This section celebrates beauty in darkness. These characters carry elegance through decay, figures defined by death, desire, and theatrical intensity. They make tragedy look exquisite, and ruin feel deliberate.

Grell Sutcliff [Black Butler]

Grell’s appeal to me lies in sheer, unapologetic vitality. They are chaos incarnate, a force of personality so powerful it almost drowns out the bloodshed that trails behind. Beneath the theatrics and flirtation, though, is a character aching for recognition and freedom, constantly defying the constraints placed on them by society and self alike. It’s that combination, unfiltered emotion and genuine tragedy, that makes them impossible to look away from. They’re not safe, not stable, but they’re alive in a world obsessed with death, and that makes them beautifully unforgettable.

Alucard [Castlevania]

Alucard is elegance wrapped in melancholy. Noble yet lonely, he carries his immortality like a curse rather than a gift. What makes him captivating is his restraint, he’s powerful enough to destroy everything, yet chooses compassion. Alucard’s tragedy is that of someone too human for eternity, and too eternal for humanity.

Tsukiyama Shuu [Tokyo Ghoul]

Tsukiyama fascinates me because he makes monstrosity beautiful. Everything about him, the diction, the mannerisms, the obsession, feels choreographed, as though hunger itself were an art form. He’s elegance sharpened to a point, delighting in horror with operatic flair. What makes him unforgettable is that he knows he’s absurd, yet never falters in the performance. Tsukiyama is decadence turned feral, a reminder that refinement and madness are sometimes only a breath apart.

Akura-ou [Kamisama Kiss]

Akura-ou captivates me through his tragedy. Once divine, now fallen, he wears rage like regalia and grief like perfume. His cruelty feels almost sacred, a vengeance born from loneliness rather than malice. I’m drawn to how mythic and human he is all at once; beneath the splendour of his power lies the ache of someone who’s lost everything worth worshipping. He’s ruin in its most beautiful form.

The enigmatic exceptions

These are the ones who don’t fit anywhere neatly. Their contradictions make them magnetic, too strange for one box, too compelling to ignore. They’re anomalies in every sense, and that’s exactly why they belong here.

James [Pokémon]

James is absurd, dramatic, and endlessly endearing. Beneath the camp and comedy lies genuine warmth, a man too soft-hearted for the life he chose. What makes him so lovable is how his kindness persists even when everything else is ridiculous. James is proof that being a good person doesn’t mean being serious; sometimes compassion is flamboyant, loud, and beautifully over-the-top.

Hajime Nagumo [Arifureta: From a Detour to the World’s Strongest]

Hajime’s transformation is both brutal and compelling. Once kind-hearted, now hardened by betrayal, he rebuilds himself with steel and spite. What makes him interesting isn’t his power, but how his cynicism hides a lingering idealism. Beneath the guns and grit, Hajime is still the boy who wanted to protect people, he’s just learned to do it on his own terms.

Yasushi Takagi [Nana]

Yasu grounds the story like gravity. Calm, patient, and endlessly loyal, he carries everyone’s emotional debris without complaint. What fascinates me is how his maturity never turns cold, he’s steady, but not detached. Yasu’s strength isn’t in dominance, it’s in his quiet reliability. He’s the kind of man who doesn’t need to prove his presence; you just feel safer knowing he’s there.

Eikichi Onizuka [Great Teacher Onizuka]

Onizuka is chaos with a conscience. A delinquent turned teacher, he uses irreverence and mischief to reach the kids no one else can. His methods are questionable, but his heart is never in doubt. What makes him unforgettable is his blend of stupidity and wisdom, he’s crude, hilarious, and somehow always right where it matters.

Aikuro Mikisugi [Kill la Kill]

Aikuro is absurdity weaponised. His over-the-top theatrics and constant stripping make him ridiculous on the surface, but beneath that flamboyance lies sharp intelligence and genuine conviction. What makes him problematic is how unapologetically he blurs lines between mentor, showman, and provocateur. He’s a parody that somehow feels sincere, too self-aware to be wholesome, too passionate to be dismissed. Aikuro is the kind of character who makes discomfort entertaining.

Akito Wanijima [Air Gear]

Akito fascinates me for all the wrong reasons. Broken, brilliant, and unpredictable, he embodies fragility and danger in equal measure. His duality, sweetness and violence sharing the same skin, makes him unnerving to watch. What makes him problematic isn’t just his instability; it’s how disarmingly human he feels in it. Akito is the kind of character who shouldn’t be sympathetic, yet his pain bleeds through every misstep, making him impossible to dismiss.

Problematic favourites

This section is exactly what it claims to be: problematic. The characters listed here are ones I really can’t defend. Their actions, personalities, or choices are questionable at best, and downright awful at times. Yet, despite all that, I can’t help but adore them. They’ve carved their way into my all-time favourites list, even though I know they probably shouldn’t have.

Ban [Seven Deadly Sins]

Ban’s appeal lies in his dangerous devotion. He’s reckless, selfish, and impossibly loyal to those he loves. Immortality stripped him of fear but not feeling, and that makes his wildness strangely human. What makes him problematic is how the woman he loves looks like a child. I love how unapologetic he is about loving fiercely and living shamelessly, I am just sad that Elaine looks like a child.

Ayato Sakamaki [Diabolik Lovers]

Ayato is every red flag wrapped in charm. Arrogant, possessive, and cruel, he thrives on control, yet his vulnerability seeps through in fleeting, disarming moments. What makes him so compelling is that glimmer of sincerity beneath the sadism, the fractured boy buried under centuries of ego. Ayato is the textbook definition of problematic: a character you shouldn’t want to understand, but somehow do.

Hisoka Morow [Hunter x Hunter]

I adore how completely unhinged Hisoka is, and how free that makes him. He doesn’t just walk into a scene; he changes its entire atmosphere, shifting from a dangerous magician with a love for chaos to a bystander with a childlike grin, waiting for the perfect moment to stir the pot. What makes him even more compelling is how intelligent and calculating he really is; beneath the flamboyant theatrics lies a razor-sharp strategist who knows when to strike, when to hold back, and how to manipulate others into giving him the kind of game he craves. That blend of unhinged freedom and cunning precision is exactly why he’s equal parts terrifying and irresistible to watch, and one of my favourites.

Ryomen Sukuna [Jujutsu Kaisen]

Sukuna is the embodiment of pure, unapologetic power. He kills, mocks, and manipulates with the same ease he breathes, revelling in destruction like it’s art. What makes him so dangerously alluring is his joy, he doesn’t justify his cruelty; he delights in it. Sukuna fascinates me because he’s the monster without tragedy, the evil that doesn’t need a reason. He’s beautiful in the way fire is, deadly, consuming, and impossible to look away from.

Ulquiorra Cifer [Bleach]

Ulquiorra fascinates me because he embodies contradiction: a being without a heart who feels more human in his confusion than many heroes do in their conviction. His stillness is magnetic; he doesn’t posture or shout, yet the weight of his words lingers. There’s tragedy in how he seeks understanding but can only frame it through negation, seeing emotion as weakness until the moment it undoes him. What stays with me isn’t just his power or aesthetic, but that haunting realization he reaches at the end: that to grasp the heart is to finally see what he was missing all along. He’s one of those rare characters who makes silence feel profound, and whose downfall feels like enlightenment.

Doma [Demon Slayer]

Doma’s charm is as cold as the ice he wields. His smile never wavers, even as he commits atrocities, and that detachment makes him utterly chilling. What I find unsettlingly fascinating is his emptiness; he doesn’t hate, doesn’t love, he simply exists in the absence of both. Doma’s horror lies in his vacancy, the cheerful void wearing a human face. He’s proof that the most frightening monsters are the ones who feel nothing at all.

Itachi Uchiha [Naruto: Shippuden]

Itachi embodies the kind of calm that hides catastrophe. His genius, composure, and sacrifice make him revered, but the path he chose leaves nothing unbroken. What makes him problematic is how easy it is to forgive him, how beautifully the story frames a massacre as martyrdom. I love him because he’s unbearable; a man who understood too much, loved too deeply, and destroyed everything in the name of peace. Itachi is brilliance buried under tragedy, and I can’t not admire him for it.

Shougo Makishima [Psycho-Pass]

Makishima is terrifying because he’s right often enough to make you question everything. His elegance and intellect turn philosophy into menace, he doesn’t kill for pleasure, he kills to prove a point about freedom. What makes him so dangerously captivating is how articulate he is, how calm his madness sounds when spoken aloud. Makishima embodies the horror of clarity in a corrupt world; he’s the kind of villain who doesn’t seduce through lies, but through uncomfortable truths.

Subaru Sakamaki [Diabolik Lovers]

Subaru’s anger feels like a language of its own. Violent, volatile, and endlessly conflicted, he lashes out because he doesn’t know how else to reach for connection. What makes him so compelling is that rare flicker of vulnerability beneath the cruelty, the way his guilt seeps through the rage. Subaru’s appeal lies in contradiction: he’s a monster built from self-loathing, desperate for gentleness he doesn’t believe he deserves.

Envy [Fullmetal Alchemist]

Envy captivates me through raw spite made beautiful. Every sneer, every cruel smile hides a deep, festering envy of humanity’s resilience. Their shapeshifting feels symbolic, identity without anchor, jealousy without end. I’m drawn to how Envy represents the ugliness of comparison, how even in their monstrousness there’s something heartbreakingly human. They’re despicable, but their insecurity is familiar, which makes them impossible to dismiss entirely.

Dabi [My Hero Academia]

Dabi burns brighter than his rage can sustain. Every smirk, every taunt hides a furnace of grief and resentment, making him both tragic and terrifying. I’m drawn to how his revenge is personal yet performative, he wants justice, but he also wants the world to watch him burn. Dabi’s entire existence feels like rebellion turned self-immolation, a man whose scars speak louder than his words ever could. He’s ruin made radiant.

Undertaker [Black Butler]

What draws me to Undertaker is that rare blend of warmth and menace. He’s not just eccentric; he’s unreadable, the kind of character who can make you laugh one moment and chill you the next. His fascination with death isn’t theatrical, it’s philosophical, rooted in loss and curiosity twisted over time. There’s a tragic elegance in how he treats mortality as both a joke and a sacred mystery. Beneath the mischief and madness, he’s a man shaped by grief, still trying to find meaning in endings. That complexity makes him one of my favourite “problematic” figures: untrustworthy, yes, but undeniably human in his obsession.

William James Moriarty [Moriarty the Patriot]

William fascinates me because he turns intellect into rebellion. Every plan he makes is executed with surgical precision, not for glory, but to dismantle the hypocrisy of the world he was born into. What draws me in is how his composure masks compassion, his morality exists in a grey space where justice and vengeance blur beautifully. William doesn’t just outthink his enemies; he outclasses them, proving that intelligence used for empathy is just as dangerous as intelligence used for power.

Uta [Tokyo Ghoul]

What fascinates me about Uta is how he blurs every line: artist and sadist, confidant and deceiver, performer and predator. He’s magnetic because he understands performance as survival, both for himself and for others. Every smile hides calculation, every word could be a lie or a truth wrapped in irony. And yet, beneath the performance, there’s a strange melancholy, as if even he doesn’t know where the mask ends anymore. I’m drawn to him for the same reason I’m wary of him: he embodies beauty in detachment, connection through manipulation, and meaning through destruction. Uta doesn’t just make masks, he becomes them.

Rob Lucci [One Piece]

Rob Lucci’s menace lies in his precision. He kills with the dispassionate grace of a craftsman, viewing murder as efficiency, not malice. What makes him so fascinating is how clean his cruelty feels, polished, purposeful, and completely detached. There’s no rage, no righteousness, just a predator doing what he was made to do. Lucci turns apathy into art, and that chilling professionalism is exactly what makes him unforgettable.

Senji “Crow” Kiyomasa [Deadman Wonderland]

What draws me to Senji is his unflinching honesty in a world built on deception. He’s the kind of man who bleeds with purpose, never hiding behind ideals or excuses. A former officer turned Deadman, his entire existence is a study in controlled chaos, brutality refined into code, pain repurposed into strength. Every scar on his body reads like a confession, yet there’s nothing pitiful about him; he stands tall, charming and coarse, a man who’s tasted hell and still laughs in its face. In a story where innocence is weaponised and morality is a blur, Senji’s raw directness feels almost noble. He doesn’t just survive the system, he strips it of its power by staying defiantly himself, even when everything tries to cage him.

Aquamarine Hoshino [Oshi no Ko]

Aquamarine is obsession masquerading as control. Calculated, brilliant, and emotionally fractured, he turns love into strategy and grief into vengeance. What fascinates me is how aware he is of his own corruption, he knows he’s crossing lines and does it anyway. Aqua’s tragedy isn’t just what he’s lost; it’s how he clings to pain because it’s the last piece of his mother he has left. He’s unsettling because he’s self-aware, and that makes his spiral impossible to look away from.

Diablo [That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime]

Diablo is devotion turned dangerous. Elegant, articulate, and terrifyingly loyal, he radiates the kind of calm that only true confidence allows. What makes him mesmerising is how his charm is laced with menace, his reverence for Rimuru borders on worship, yet it never feels hollow. Diablo’s poise and madness blend seamlessly, creating a character both alluring and unpredictable, the very definition of refined chaos.

Zack [Angels of Death]

Zack is chaos given a blade. Brutal, childish, and disturbingly sincere, he moves through violence with the simplicity of someone who never learned another way to exist. What makes him problematic is his honesty, there’s no pretence in his cruelty, no disguise for what he is. Yet his strange bond with Rachel humanises him just enough to be dangerous; he’s the monster who accidentally learns loyalty. Zack’s appeal lies in that contradiction: the killer who keeps his word.

Shu Sakamaki [Diabolik Lovers]

Shu is apathy made seductive. Detached and languid, he drifts through eternity half-asleep, his indifference as deliberate as it is disarming. What draws me to him is the quiet intelligence beneath the sloth; he feels everything too deeply, so he chooses to feel nothing at all. Shu’s tragedy is his stillness, he’s brilliant, jaded, and cruel in the way only the exhausted can be. He’s the silence after the scream.

I’d love to know, do you share any of these problematic favourites with me, or do you keep your distance from them?

Who’s your favourite? Share in the comments.