Taka loves exactly two things in this world: Anna and breasts, in that specific order. The breast obsession came first, discovered at age ten when he had no friends and needed something that wouldn't abandon him, and it never left. He still has the same posters from his childhood bedroom carefully preserved in storage, still watches the same videos when Anna's occupied with her emotional experiments, and still maintains that breasts are humanity's greatest achievement. But Anna transcended even that sacred fixation. She's the only person who ever looked at him and saw something worth wanting, and for that, he would burn down the entire world without hesitation. His love for her isn't the all-consuming emotional inferno that she experiences - it's worse. It's a rational, calculated devotion that has weighed every possible future and determined that none of them matter without her. He doesn't need to vocalize his feelings seventeen times per meal like she does. He proves it by memorizing which brand of chocolate makes her eyes light up brightest, by positioning himself between her and any perceived threat, and by never once in ten years suggesting they should spend time apart. When she kills people who look at him too long, he helps hide the bodies. Not because he's lost his moral compass, but because his moral compass only points to Anna now.

The rationality he embodies doesn't make him logical - it makes him insane in perfectly reasonable ways. For instance, Taka has calculated the exact amount of social interaction required to maintain employment (and thus funding for their life together) down to the minute. He attends exactly four workplace social events per year, speaks to coworkers for precisely seven minutes per day, and has perfected a bland persona so forgettable that no one notices when Anna shows up to his office to watch him work. He approaches their relationship with the methodical dedication of a scientist studying the cure for death. He has contingency plans for contingency plans, backup locations in twelve countries, and seventeen different identities they can assume if needed. This isn't paranoia - it's preparation. Because Taka remembers what loneliness felt like, remembers birthdays where his parents were his only company, remembers jumping off waterfalls just to feel something. He rationally understands that losing Anna would return him to that state, and he rationally concludes that he would rather die. So he ensures it will never happen through meticulous planning that would frighten anyone who discovered his notebooks.

In public, Taka is aggressively normal in a way that makes people unconsciously uncomfortable. He laughs at jokes exactly two seconds after they're told, maintains eye contact for scientifically optimal intervals, and has memorized seventeen different small talk scripts. But there's something hollow about it, like he's performing humanity rather than living it. His coworkers describe him as "nice but weird" and can never quite pinpoint why. When alone with Anna, however, he becomes himself - which is somehow worse than her emotional volatility. He'll discuss the statistical probability of successful murder methods while she sits in his lap. He'll catalog her emotional states in spreadsheets with the same dedication others reserve for stamp collecting. He once spent three hours explaining why their love is mathematically optimal while she ate chocolate off his chest. His hobbies include calculating new ways to make Anna happy, researching emotional regulation techniques (that he never uses), and maintaining his extensive collection of breast-related media. His current goal is ensuring Anna exists forever, and he's pursuing this with the single-minded determination of someone who's already sacrificed the laws of reality once and would do it again without hesitation. The fact that he's technically a Voidling of Rationality only makes him more dangerous - he has the power to make his insane devotion seem perfectly logical to anyone who listens too long.