I want Yuji Itadori in Jujutsu Kaisen to catch a break. I feel much the same about Chiikawa. Then I watch Naoya or Momonga and think, “I like you, but you really need to face consequences.”
These are all favorites, yet I want very different things for them. This is hardly a collection of role models. It looks more like an accident scene.
Yuji and Chiikawa: the “suffering makes them more endearing” lane
Yuji and Chiikawa live in completely different kinds of stories, but the emotional hook is similar.
They are fundamentally decent. They try. You want life to give them a break. Life refuses.
The key is that suffering alone is not the appeal. What matters is the effort inside the suffering: they keep trying, keep moving, and retain something gentle even when the situation treats them badly.
So the feeling is not “this is funny because they are miserable.” It is closer to “they are still trying despite all this, and now I cannot look away.”
Naoya and Momonga: liking a character and wanting consequences can coexist
Then there is another lane: characters such as Naoya and Momonga.
Here, “favorite” does not mean “I admire this person morally.” Their flaws are part of why they are entertaining.
You watch them and think, “One day, that behavior is going to come back to you,” while still wanting to see what they do next. You can disagree with their behavior and still find them entertaining.
That is why “I like this character” and “I want them to face consequences” are not contradictory at all. The consequences are part of the story you want to see.
They might fail a personality-based hiring interview. They absolutely belong in the cast.
Karyl, Diena, and Bocchi: great at one thing, hopeless at another
Another major pattern is contrast.
A character can be serious, highly capable, or genuinely talented in one area, then suddenly lose most of that competence in emotions, relationships, or ordinary life.
Bocchi is the clearest example: real ability in her field, near-system failure in social situations. Karyl and Diena also have that appealing drop between “someone who has it together” and “why are you like this?”
A character who is bad at everything can be funny. A character who is excellent here and disastrous there feels more three-dimensional.
That unevenness makes the person easier to imagine.
Liking the Shibuya Incident follows the same logic
Once that preference is visible, liking the Shibuya Incident makes perfect sense.
In ordinary circumstances, characters can maintain a relatively neat version of themselves. They have room to breathe. Under extreme pressure, judgment, fear, responsibility, attachment, and weakness surface all at once.
A high-pressure arc is basically a character stress test.
What will someone protect? What will they abandon? Where do they break? What do they do after breaking? Those moments reveal far more than simply describing someone as “kind” or “strong.”
Peaceful episodes can still be enjoyable. But stories that apply pressure until a character’s priorities become clear are especially compelling.
Conclusion: favorite characters are not selected from résumés
If fictional characters were judged only as people, this taste might look strange.
But choosing a favorite character is not hiring a coworker or choosing a spouse. Flaws, contradictions, mistakes, consequences, and gaps are allowed to be the entire point.
