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Natsuo Abe is a housewife in her 30s from Fukuoka. Last spring, she flew to Chiba, booked two nights in a hotel, and spent over 100,000 yen — roughly $670 — in a single weekend. She wasn't on vacation. She wasn't visiting family. She was attending a fan event for her favorite K-pop group, ZEROBASEONE. She bought merchandise, took photos in front of official displays, and stood in a crowd of thousands of people who had made the exact same calculation: that supporting the thing you love is worth any price.
In Japan, this is called oshikatsu (推し活). And Natsuo is not unusual. She is, by most measures, typical.
What Is Oshikatsu?
The word breaks down simply. Oshi (推し) means "a favorite" — someone or something you push forward and support. Katsu (活) means activity or lifestyle. Combined, oshikatsu describes the practice of actively, devotedly, financially supporting your oshi — whoever or whatever that happens to be.
Your oshi can be a J-pop idol, a K-pop group, a voice actor, an anime character, a VTuber who has never shown their face, a professional soccer player, even a historical figure. The rules are loose. What matters is the intensity of devotion — and the willingness to organize your life around it.
"Oshikatsu isn't just spending money. For many people, it offers community, identity, and a sense of purpose in everyday life."
Japan Today, April 2026
This might sound like obsessive fan behavior — and sometimes it is. But oshikatsu has evolved into something far more mainstream and culturally significant than Western media typically portrays. In 2025, it appeared in Japan's top ten buzzwords of the year. It's openly discussed at workplaces. It shows up on dating profiles. It has its own insurance products.
The Numbers Are Staggering
To put those numbers in context: the oshikatsu market is larger than the entire GDP of many small countries. It exceeds Japan's annual spending on books, music, and video games — combined. And it kept growing even through Japan's recent inflationary period, when most consumer spending contracted.
A Nomura Research Institute survey confirmed that approximately 26 million Japanese aged 15 to 69 actively engage in oshikatsu — that's more than 30 percent of the population in that age bracket. And the fastest-growing group? Women aged 31 to 34, with participation up 8.2 percentage points in a single year.
Who Has an Oshi — And Who Spends What
The stereotype of oshikatsu is a teenage girl screaming at a pop idol concert. The reality is considerably more diverse.
A recent survey found that 27% of middle-aged Japanese people have an oshi — including nearly half of middle-aged women. Male participation is growing strongly, particularly around VTubers, sports stars, and voice actors. The highest spenders, according to Japan's Ministry of Internal Affairs and Communications, are actually people in their 50s, who average 99,000 yen per year — significantly more than younger fans.
What fans actually spend money on
The spending categories are broader than most outsiders expect. Concert and event tickets are obvious. But oshikatsu spending also includes: official merchandise (photos, keychains, branded goods), fan club memberships, travel to see performances in other cities — or other countries — custom merchandise, photography equipment to document events, and increasingly, paid billboard advertisements celebrating their favorite artists.
Those billboard ads range from 10,000 yen for a small digital display to 500,000 yen for a prime location. Fans pool resources, crowdfund, and organize collectively to place them.
"Thanks to TWS, I enjoy working. They give me the motivation to keep going."
A fan at KCON Japan 2025, after spending 10,000 yen on merchandise in under an hour
Why This Is Different From Western Fan Culture
Western media often compares oshikatsu to "stan culture" — the intense, sometimes aggressive fandom around Western celebrities. But the comparison misses something important about the Japanese version.
Oshikatsu is structurally more organized, more financially committed, and — crucially — more accepted as a legitimate lifestyle choice. Where Western stan culture often carries connotations of unhealthy obsession or social embarrassment, oshikatsu has been absorbed into mainstream Japanese life as a reasonable way to spend one's time and money.
Part of this is cultural. Japan has a long history of organized fan support systems — particularly around idol groups, where fan clubs, voting systems, and participation rituals are built directly into the product. Oshikatsu extends this logic outward to virtually any object of devotion.
Part of it is also psychological. Research on oshikatsu participants consistently finds associations with concepts like community, emotional safety, consistency, and purpose. In a society where traditional identity markers — stable employment, family formation, social belonging — have become less reliable for younger generations, having an oshi provides a reliable emotional anchor.
The Economy Around the Emotion
Businesses have responded to oshikatsu with remarkable speed and specificity. This isn't passive adaptation — companies are actively designing products and experiences for oshikatsu participants.
Event venues have added dedicated merchandise lines and fan photo opportunities. Travel agencies offer oshikatsu package tours — combining concert tickets with hotel stays and themed activities. Financial products have appeared, including oshikatsu savings accounts that help fans budget for their spending, and oshikatsu insurance that reimburses fans if a concert is canceled (roughly 20% of fans have experienced cancellations, with 30% reporting losses of 30,000 yen or more in penalties).
The government has taken notice too. Japan's administration has explicitly cited oshikatsu as a driver of domestic consumer spending, and economists are tracking it as a macro indicator.
Is Oshikatsu Healthy?
The question hangs over every serious discussion of the phenomenon. A survey in Toyo Keizai magazine found that 50% of respondents in their 20s, and 40% of those in their 30s and 40s, considered oshikatsu a financial burden on their lives. Hakuhodo's research found that teenage girls reported spending half their disposable income on their oshi. The oshikatsu subculture has been explicitly criticized for encouraging addictive spending patterns.
At the same time, the majority of participants — nearly 70% — keep their spending under 50,000 yen per year, a figure that most people would consider reasonable for a serious hobby. And the psychological benefits are consistently documented: reduced loneliness, increased motivation, stronger social connections through fan communities.
The answer, like most things about oshikatsu, resists simplification. It can be both a genuine source of meaning and a vector for financial harm, often simultaneously, in the same person.
What Happens Next
Oshikatsu is spreading. Chinese tourists attending KCON Japan 2025 described discovering oshikatsu while living in Japan and bringing it home with them. The Korean entertainment industry has built infrastructure that explicitly caters to oshikatsu-style participation — organized voting systems, merchandise tiers, fan meetings. Western artists and sports teams are beginning to study the model.
In Japan itself, the market expanded to 3.8 trillion yen in 2026, holding firm despite inflationary pressure — a sign that oshikatsu spending has been reclassified by its participants from discretionary to essential.
That might be the most remarkable thing about oshikatsu: not its size, or its diversity, or its economic impact, but the fact that for tens of millions of people, supporting something they love has become as fundamental to life as food, shelter, and work. The oshi, whoever or whatever they are, has become load-bearing.
"In a society where traditional identity markers feel increasingly unstable, having an oshi provides structure, purpose, and community."
GaijinPot, January 2026
Natsuo Abe flew home from Chiba with a bag full of merchandise and no regrets. She'd already started planning her next trip.

