Nanami Kento shouldn’t be this popular. He’s a supporting character who appears in limited episodes, has no flashy fighting style, and explicitly despises being a sorcerer. Yet he’s become Jujutsu Kaisen’s breakout fan favorite—the “salaryman sorcerer” whose tired professionalism resonates more than any power fantasy protagonist. Here’s why the 9-to-5 jujutsu worker captured hearts worldwide.
The Anti-Sorcerer Philosophy
Nanami quit jujutsu sorcery to become a salaryman. After graduating from Tokyo Jujutsu High, he concluded that fighting cursed spirits was fundamentally unfulfilling—dangerous work without adequate compensation or recognition. He chose the mundane corporate world instead.
His return to sorcery came not from rediscovery of purpose but from recognition that corporate work was equally meaningless. At least fighting curses had stakes; at least death meant something. Nanami chose sorcery’s dangers over salary work’s slow spiritual death—a choice born from nihilism, not heroism.
This anti-idealistic attitude distinguishes Nanami from standard shonen characters. He doesn’t fight for justice, revenge, or ambition. He fights because work must be done and someone must do it. The absence of grand motivation makes his competence feel earned rather than destined.
The Overtime Rules
Nanami famously refuses to work overtime. His “ratio technique” for defeating curses operates within business hours; beyond those hours, he’s off the clock. This comedic constraint reflects genuine philosophy: work shouldn’t consume life, even life-and-death work.
The constraint creates tension during the Shibuya arc when Nanami explicitly clocks out—then returns anyway because circumstances demand it. His overtime rule, apparently rigid, bends for genuine necessity. The humor comes from maintaining professional boundaries even while fighting monsters.
More seriously, Nanami’s work-life boundaries critique shonen protagonists who sacrifice everything for battles. Training arcs, power-up quests, constant combat—shonen rarely questions whether this dedication is healthy. Nanami’s resistance offers alternative model: do your job well, then go home.
The Ratio Technique: Practical Power
Nanami’s cursed technique—Ratio—divides any target into ten parts, creating a weak point at the 7:3 ratio. This isn’t flashy; it’s methodical. Every opponent has exploitable weakness if Nanami can identify the correct point to strike.
The technique reflects his personality: analytical, precise, efficient. Nanami doesn’t overpower enemies through superior cursed energy; he identifies optimal approaches and executes them. His fights feel like problem-solving rather than power contests.
His Binding Vow—the overtime restriction that increases his power after hours—demonstrates another Nanami principle: accepting constraints to gain advantages. Rather than pursuing limitless power, he works within rules that create predictable, reliable capability.
Mentorship Done Right
Nanami’s relationship with Yuji Itadori provides the series’ healthiest mentorship. He doesn’t mystify his knowledge or create artificial challenges. He explains his techniques, acknowledges his limitations, and treats Yuji as a colleague rather than a student to be molded.
His explicit statement that adults shouldn’t burden children with adult responsibilities stands out in shonen. Most series celebrate young heroes shouldering impossible weight; Nanami openly disapproves of it. His acknowledgment that Yuji shouldn’t have to fight—while helping him fight effectively—balances pragmatism with ethics.
The “You did well” validation he provides Yuji during their combined fights demonstrates good mentorship practice. Nanami recognizes effort, provides specific feedback, and maintains realistic expectations. He’s the manager everyone wishes they had—competent, fair, and genuinely invested in subordinates’ development.
The Shibuya Tragedy
Nanami’s death during the Shibuya Incident represents JJK’s most devastating loss. After fighting continuously through the disaster, suffering a direct hit from Jogo’s flames, and continuing anyway because the situation demanded it—Nanami finally falls to Mahito’s touch.
His final moments, hallucinating a beach vacation he’d always wanted, hit harder because of everything the series established. Nanami worked endlessly, accepted dangers he didn’t want, maintained professionalism until the end—and died before getting his rest. The vacation was the dream; the reality was burning alive.
His last words to Yuji—”You’ve got it from here”—pass responsibility to the next generation without sentimentality. Even dying, Nanami remained practical: the work continues whether he’s present or not. Someone must do it; now that person is Yuji.
The Aesthetic Appeal
Nanami’s design contributes to his popularity. The business suit, the sunglasses, the blunt haircut—his appearance codes as “corporate worker” in a world of dramatic sorcerer designs. This visual ordinariness makes his extraordinary competence more impressive.
His bread preferences (specifically disliking the crusty ends, as mentioned in a character detail) humanize him further. Nanami has opinions about food; Nanami has aesthetic preferences; Nanami exists as a person beyond his function. These small details create character density that major plot points can’t provide.
The contrast between mundane appearance and supernatural capability creates visual humor. Nanami looks like he should be filing expense reports; instead, he’s bisecting cursed spirits with a blunt sword. The gap entertains while reinforcing his themes.
The Adult Perspective
In a genre dominated by teenage protagonists, Nanami represents adult experience. His cynicism comes from years in the workforce, both supernatural and corporate. His emotional regulation comes from maturity rather than suppression. His competence comes from practice rather than talent.
Adult viewers particularly connect with Nanami because he reflects their reality. Work isn’t passion—it’s necessity. Meaning isn’t guaranteed—it’s constructed. Life doesn’t provide protagonist destiny—it provides obligations to meet. Nanami validates the experience of people who show up, do their jobs, and want nothing more than to go home.
His popularity among working-age fans versus student-age fans reflects this dynamic. Teenagers might prefer Gojo’s overwhelming power or Yuji’s determined heroism; adults often prefer Nanami’s tired competence. Different demographics see different wishes fulfilled.
Why the Salaryman Sorcerer Matters
Nanami Kento works because he’s anti-power fantasy presented positively. He’s not aspirational in the standard sense—no one dreams of being tired and nihilistic. But he models functional existence without grand purpose, competence without passion, dignity without delusion.
His popularity suggests hunger for this representation. Anime’s emphasis on destiny, ambition, and transcendence can feel alienating to viewers who simply exist, working jobs they don’t love for reasons they don’t find meaningful. Nanami acknowledges this reality without despair—and that acknowledgment resonates.
Jujutsu Kaisen’s breakout character wasn’t the strongest, the funniest, or the most dramatic. He was the most realistic—a man doing a job he didn’t enjoy because it needed doing, maintaining boundaries where possible, and dying before achieving the rest he’d earned.
In a genre full of heroes chasing dreams, Nanami Kento just wanted to finish work on time. That’s why he mattered—and why his loss hit harder than characters who’d been present much longer.