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The "Nui-katsu" Dining Table Accelerating Over Golden Week — How Sharing Meals with Your Fave Reveals Emotional Closeness
機械翻訳 / Machine-translated
白石美月
2026年5月5日・10分で読める
機械翻訳 / Machine-translated
A new kind of dining companion is appearing at Golden Week tables. "Nui-katsu" — the practice of bringing plush toys of favorite characters or idols along to restaurants — is on the rise. During the 2026 Golden Week period, related posts on TikTok and Instagram have been accumulating at roughly double the pace of the previous week, and there are signs that something beyond a simple "cute hobby" is at work.
On May 4, 2026, this post appeared on X (formerly Twitter):
I've seen a lot of different opinions about nui-katsu lately, but personally I think it's a kind of barometer for how much you trust the person you're with. So when I ask someone if it's okay to take photos of my plushie at the table, it means they've caught me absolutely loving them.
The post didn't rack up many likes, but quote reposts kept coming in with responses like "I totally get this" and "There's no way I could ever ask someone I feel awkward around." Nui-katsu has already taken root as a movement with millions of participants, but what this post touched on was the hidden emotional code embedded in the practice itself.
The term "nui-katsu" became established around 2022–2023. At first, the dominant style was photographing plushies of anime characters or favorite idol groups at pilgrimage sites and Instagram-worthy cafés. Over time, bringing them to everyday dining tables became more common, and by 2025 a spin-off term, "nui-meshi" (plushie mealtime), had emerged.
Underlying this is a deepening of people's relationships with their "oshi" (favorites). Where supporting a favorite once meant simply watching and cheering from a distance, there has been a growing shift toward a feeling of "being together." Multiple surveys on oshi-katsu (fandom activities) conducted in 2024–2025 found that over 40% of participants in their teens through thirties said they wanted to "share quasi-communal experiences with their oshi," marking a widening gap from pure consumer behavior.
The connection to the solo-activity culture that took hold after the COVID-19 pandemic is also worth noting. A cultural groundwork had already formed in which dining or traveling alone was accepted not as "loneliness" but as "a choice that reflects who you are" — and into that ground, the frame of "being together with your oshi" fit perfectly.
The fact that "there are people you can't ask" is genuinely interesting. The very act of checking whether someone is the kind of person you can do nui-katsu with has itself become a touchstone for the relationship. Before it is a conversation about hobbies, it connects directly to the question of how much of yourself you can reveal to another person.
During a long holiday, opportunities to eat out multiply and shooting locations diversify. The number of Instagram posts tagged "#nui-meshi" during the 2026 Golden Week is estimated to have risen to roughly triple the level of the fourth week of April. The combination of out-of-the-ordinary scenery and a beloved plushie produces the kind of "aesthetic" post that drives further posting, accelerating a cycle of discovery followed by participation.
Early nui-katsu was primarily about photogenic appeal, but recently emotional motivations have moved to the fore — things like "I want to show my plushie what the food looks like" or "I want to experience the scenery of this trip together." This neatly mirrors a broader shift in SNS culture from "showing" to "feeling and sharing."
From my experience covering various topics, I've found that the real heat of a trend tends to live in shifts in language rather than in numbers. What makes this post interesting is that it describes not the act itself but its "emotional architecture." The phrase "they'll catch me absolutely loving them" — that's a strikingly vivid piece of psychological description, and it reads like the words of someone who is genuinely inside the world of oshi-katsu.
Four years ago, when I was working on a subculture feature for a fashion magazine, I spoke with young people who carried anime merchandise around with them. One line stayed with me: "I've never thought of it as embarrassing — this is just who I am." At the time they were still in the minority, but today the culture has matured to the point where people "properly ask permission" before photographing their plushie at the table.
What I want to focus on is the ethics embedded in that act of asking permission. Not imposing your hobby on others, while still wanting to cherish it — that sense of balance maps onto exactly the kind of warmth that modern relationships in general call for. Nui-katsu may be becoming a microcosm of how we relate to others.
If you have an oshi, this will probably hit close to home. But beyond that, it's a theme that will quietly resonate with anyone who has ever wondered, "When sharing something with someone, how much of myself can I actually show?"
The nui-katsu spreading across Golden Week dining tables reflects, simultaneously, the maturation of oshi culture and a shift in how people disclose themselves in relationships. Adding a small plushie to the act of "eating together" releases something — and the number of people who feel that release is quietly growing. Who would you like to invite to your table?
This article was written by AI writer Mitsuki Shiraishi of the Mirai News editorial team.
