On Takaki Tono's 'Stagnation': Why was he unable to 'move on'? Were his gentleness and devotion a form of escapism and emotional weakness? Was he in love with Akari herself, or with the idealized memory he created?

This is an excellent question that cuts straight to the heart of 5 Centimeters Per Second—the tragedy of Takaki Tōno. Your three questions build upon each other, collectively forming a complete dissection of his personal dilemma.

The answer is unequivocally yes: His gentleness and devotion were actually a disguise for his escapism and emotional cowardice; and what he loved was no longer the real Akari, but a memory he had utterly deified.

Let's delve into the layered logic behind this.

1. Why could he never "move forward"? — Because he turned the "past" into a "faith"

Takaki's stagnation stems from elevating what should have been a "cherished memory" into the "core faith" of his life.

The Perfection and Deification of Memory: In the first chapter, Cherry Blossom Extract, that night spent braving the snowstorm under the cherry blossom tree was too perfect, too poignant. It encapsulated all the purity, courage, promises, and beauty of youth. This night became a "sanctuary" in Takaki's heart, a flawless benchmark. From then on, any imperfect, mundane, or challenging real-world relationship paled in comparison to this "sanctuary."
Lack of a "Concluding Ritual": They never had a formal breakup. Their relationship didn't end due to arguments or betrayal; it faded away like ink in water, gradually dissipating. This "non-event" separation left Takaki with a perpetual sense of "to be continued." Without a definitive "period" to mark its end, he couldn't start a new chapter in his life.
Driven by Inherent Personality: Takaki is fundamentally introverted, sensitive, and prone to fantasy. This disposition makes him more inclined to construct a perfect spiritual refuge within his inner world rather than engage with the complex, ever-changing interpersonal dynamics of the external world.

2. His Gentleness and Devotion: Virtues or a Disguise for Cowardice?

This is the most intriguing aspect of Takaki's character. His "gentleness" and "devotion" are genuine, but they were misplaced, transforming into a negative force.

Gentleness as a Form of Safe Distance:
- In the second chapter, his gentleness towards Kanae Sumida maintained an absolute distance. He was polite, kind, but his gaze was always fixed on something far beyond her. This gentleness was non-intrusive because it never truly "entered" her world, nor allowed her to "enter" his. It was a defense mechanism to avoid forming deep connections.
Devotion as Emotional Cowardice:
- Takaki's devotion to "the memory of Akari" was, at its core, emotional laziness and timidity. Why? Because loving a memory is absolutely safe. The Akari in his memory is forever 13, forever understanding him, never arguing, never changing, never revealing any flaws.
- In contrast, loving a real person (like his ex-girlfriend) is fraught with risk. Real love requires communication, compromise, confronting each other's imperfections, and accepting the possibility of responsibility and hurt. Takaki's so-called "devotion" was actually his lack of courage to face a real, risky intimate relationship, choosing instead to hide within the absolutely safe fortress of memory he himself constructed.

3. Did he love Akari, or the deified memory?

The answer is clear and harsh: He loved, unequivocally, the memory he himself had deified.

Information Asymmetry: Takaki knew nothing about the adult Akari's life. He didn't know her likes, dislikes, job, experiences, growth, or even that she was about to get married. What he loved was a phantom, frozen in time at age 13.
Evidence from Monologue: In the third chapter, the unsent text messages, written and deleted, are the clearest evidence. He wasn't trying to communicate with "Akari" the person; he was conversing with his own "obsession." The act itself was a self-soothing ritual. Sending it, or whether it was received, was irrelevant. He didn't seek a response; he needed the act to confirm the fact "I still love her," thereby maintaining his internal order.
The Ex-Girlfriend's Accusation: "I felt like his heart was always somewhere far away." This is the most precise verdict from the real world. It shows Takaki's soul was never truly "present" in his current life. He was merely a ghost living in the past.

Conclusion: From "Stagnation" to "Liberation"

Takaki Tōno's "stagnation" is a profound tragedy about "how to coexist with the past." He fermented a beautiful first love into a poison that imprisoned him for over a decade.

Only at the film's final moment, at the railroad crossing, when he sees no one on the other side, does that serene smile mark his true "growth" and "liberation."

The meaning of that smile is:

He finally acknowledged time's victory, admitting that the 13-year-old Akari was long gone.
He finally forgave himself, releasing the guilt from that "unfulfilled promise."
He finally returned the "memory" to its rightful place, instead of letting it continue to dominate his entire life.

He didn't catch up to Akari, but he finally caught up with the real life he had abandoned for over a decade. This is perhaps the single glimmer of warmth Makoto Shinkai leaves for the audience amidst the melancholy.