<figure id="attachment_441195" class="wp-caption alignnone" style="width: 1200px;" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-441195"><a href="#" data-ident_hash="3ea302d4"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/fridaydigital/image/private/t_article_image/wpmedia/2025/10/306ceebe7f293143d48bc3e6f7cbaef1.jpg" alt=""></a>Advertisements for outcall escort services appeared not only in adult information magazines but also through free information booths, which played a major role in promoting them (Shibuya, 2007).</figure>
In the fast-changing world of Japan’s adult entertainment industry, outcall escort services (deriheru) have become its most mainstream branch. In this series, “27 Years of Deriheru,” adult industry journalist Akira Ikoma traces their evolution. In this second installment, he explores the deriheru bubble of the late 1990s to early 2000s — a period when profits were so high that operators could hardly stop laughing.
<h3>There was something this good all along!</h3>
From April 1999, when the revised Adult Entertainment Business Law came into effect, deriheru (outcall health services) began spreading across Japan. Until then, some rural areas had no legal sex-related establishments at all. Men in those regions, starved for easily accessible adult entertainment, quickly fueled the boom—especially in places without any licensed health (in-house service) shops.
“There was something this good all along!”
That was the reaction one local deriheru operator gave the author when asked about his first impression of the industry. In that region, there are still no storefront health shops today. In such sex-industry wastelands, deriheru became a kind of savior for local men looking for discreet, nearby fun.
However, in the eyes of the general public, deriheru at first had the image of a shady, semi-illegal fusion between the old hotel telephone clubs (hotetoru) and light fashion health services. One staff member the author knew—who had been working at a storefront health shop—recalled thinking, “Deriheru will never catch on.” Without the internet or smartphones, promoting an unmarked, locationless business seemed impossible. The entire industry looked down on deriheru as second-rate.
Writers covering the sex industry felt the same. Some veteran journalists flat-out declared, “That kind of thing isn’t fūzoku(sex work).” They insisted that “only establishments with an actual storefront count as real fūzoku,” and their stance was admired as principled or even cool. But today, the adult entertainment world is said to be in the era of deriherudominance. How times change.
When deriheru first appeared in the late ’90s to early 2000s, it was an era people describe as so profitable we couldn’t stop laughing. Those who entered the business in the late ’90s reportedly made fortunes in a short period. The phones rang nonstop all day, and business was booming. The average fee per client was around ¥20,000—nearly double today’s rate—while advertising costs were only about one-tenth of what they are now. Some owners were so flush that they chauffeured their workers in luxury cars like Mercedes-Benzes or Toyota Celsiors.
It was also a great time for the women working in the trade. There were far fewer shops than today, and demand was overwhelming. Simply showing up for work guaranteed several clients and solid earnings. With an endless stream of walk-in customers, there was little need to work hard to build a regular clientele—appearance mattered less, and everyone stayed busy. As a result, many women left or started moonlighting from soaplands and storefront health shops to join the deriheru boom.
<div data-friday-nextpage-lead="How did they make money without knowing the ceiling?"></div>
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<figure id="attachment_441207" class="wp-caption alignnone" style="width: 1024px;" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-441207"><a href="#" data-ident_hash="b5db5bae"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/fridaydigital/image/private/t_article_image/wpmedia/2025/10/52e45e6f12313de048750c9d87f07327.jpg" alt=""></a><figcaption id="caption-attachment-441207" class="wp-caption-text">In front of Shinjuku Koma Theater in 2002. At that time, deriheru businesses were said to be making so much money that owners couldn’t stop laughing.</figcaption></figure>
<h3>A tenfold increase in the number of stores — “Conquering the nation.”</h3>
Unlike brick-and-mortar shops, the lack of playroom limitations also fueled the industry’s prosperity. In regular establishments, all rooms could become fully booked, but for delivery-based services—where encounters took place in hotels or customers’ homes—this wasn’t an issue. In extreme cases, every available woman on shift could serve clients simultaneously. With no restrictions on staffing or business hours, profits during boom times were virtually limitless.
One local owner known to the author hit the jackpot with his first shop in his mid-twenties and, by 2000, rapidly opened sister branches one after another. Riding that momentum, he expanded into nearby major cities and shocked competitors by building a massive group empire. Young, energetic, sharp-minded, and charismatic, he embodied the entrepreneurial drive that many ambitious newcomers brought into the fledgling delivery-health industry.
Because customers could enjoy services with just a single phone call, the format was quickly embraced nationwide, becoming the dominant force in Japan’s sex-service sector. From entertainment districts in big cities to downtown areas in smaller regional hubs, the delivery-health boom achieved national domination within only a few years of its debut.
The number of registered delivery-health businesses skyrocketed from 2,684 in 1999 to 25,727 by 2005—an almost 9.5-fold increase in just six years, outpacing every other adult-service category. However, this figure also included many cases where a single operator managed several shops under different phone numbers.
<div data-friday-nextpage-lead="How-to books touting &quot;get rich quick in the delicatessen business&quot; also appeared."></div>
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<figure id="attachment_441199" class="wp-caption alignnone" style="width: 1600px;" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-441199"><a href="#" data-ident_hash="c838886e"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/fridaydigital/image/private/t_article_image/wpmedia/2025/10/7b0f74652518d1f870fe192d6c0cc64a.jpg" alt=""></a><figcaption id="caption-attachment-441199" class="wp-caption-text">Boldly plastered delivery-health flyers (Mito, 2008).</figcaption></figure>
<h3>An option for those considering starting a business</h3>
One major reason behind the explosive increase of new individuals and corporations entering the delivery-health business was its low barrier to entry.
Unlike store-based establishments, which are restricted under the Adult Entertainment Law, non-store types faced no location regulations — a delivery-health service could basically open anywhere. The process was simple: submit the necessary paperwork to the local police, and once accepted by the Public Safety Commission, operations could begin within ten days. No qualifications or prior experience were required — as long as the applicant was an adult, anyone could register.
Because there was no need to maintain a physical store, the main expenses were limited to staffing and advertising, keeping initial investments minimal. There were also no restrictions on business hours.
Legalization redefined the business as a legitimate commercial enterprise, making delivery-health a viable option for aspiring entrepreneurs. By 2002, books explaining how to start a delivery-health business were being published, branding it as “the most popular adult business” or even “the best choice for new ventures.”
By the mid-2000s, a wave of get-rich-quick delivery-health startup guides appeared, touting it as a low-cost, high-margin and profitable business model. However, seasoned industry insiders who read these books often shook their heads — the contents were overly optimistic and glossed over the harsh realities of running such an operation.
As more amateur entrepreneurs entered the scene, delivery-health gradually replaced older perceptions of the adult industry as a “dangerous, mob-connected underworld.” Today, the old image of “a brothel run by gangster types” is largely a relic of the past.
Even operators of traditional, store-based adult businesses began shifting to the delivery-health model in response to tighter regulations. This widespread expansion revitalized the industry — broadening the market, energizing competition, and improving service quality.
<div data-friday-nextpage-lead="Advertising costs also skyrocketed."></div>
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<figure id="attachment_441200" class="wp-caption alignnone" style="width: 2048px;" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-441200"><a href="#" data-ident_hash="d8a93910"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/fridaydigital/image/private/t_article_image/wpmedia/2025/10/36fa7a6ded38879ad8d390bde2cc7def.jpg" alt=""></a><figcaption id="caption-attachment-441200" class="wp-caption-text">There were also information cafés that promoted delivery-health services (Ōtsuka, 2001).</figcaption></figure>
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<h3>Adult entertainment magazines also thrived during the bubble era</h3>
During this era, adult entertainment magazines played a major role in promoting the rapid expansion of delivery health (deriheru) services. The internet was not yet widespread, and these magazines offered the most comprehensive information within the adult entertainment media. Many people enjoyed reading the magazines and imagining their experiences at such establishments.
At first, simply placing an ad in an adult magazine was enough to get phone calls. As the number of shops increased and competition for customers grew, businesses began ramping up the number of ads. The more pages a shop’s ad appeared on, especially toward the front, the more it helped attract customers.
Advertising agencies, aware of how profitable deriheru was, became increasingly assertive. Initial advertising costs of tens of thousands of yen soon rose to hundreds of thousands—or even over a million yen. In 2001, the author heard from a local deriheru manager that a one-page ad in a regional adult magazine cost more than ten times the typical price for a portal site, an amount that was astonishing at the time.
Although unimaginable in today’s era dominated by online adult sites, adult magazines were selling extremely well back then. Each region had its own local magazine, and in large entertainment districts, multiple publications coexisted. The author, who managed the “National Local Adult Magazines Feature” for a monthly magazine at the time, visited local editorial offices during field reporting to make introductions. This feature, which highlighted notable magazines and local featured beauties, was extremely popular.
Around the same time, free adult information centers also helped boost deriheru sales. Unlike today, back then waiting-type offices (similar to today’s hotel delivery health, or hoteheru) were recognized as an intermediate form between in-store and delivery services. Many deriheru had small offices in multi-tenant buildings. Unlike full-scale storefronts with large signs, these small offices relied on foot traffic, so free information centers that attracted customers were very valuable.
<a href="https://friday.kodansha.co.jp/article/441206">The second part of the series covers how deriheru evolved as shops increased, including the emergence of hoteheru and high-end establishments.</a>
References:
Nippon Hanzai Kyōjidai by Ken Kitashiba, Fusosha, 2009
Shin Fūzoku no Keizaigaku by Fumio Iwanaga, Kodansha, 2012
Seifūzoku no Ibutsuna Genba by Shingo Sakazume, Chikuma Shobo, 2016
Nihon no Fūzokujo by Atsuhiko Nakamura, Shinchosha, 2014
Shokugyō toshite no Fūzokujo by Atsuhiko Nakamura &amp; Mamoru Teshigawara, Takarajimasha, 2015
Fūzoku Eigyōhō Hanreishū [Revised Edition] by Hisashi Otsuka, Tachibana Shobo, 2016
Various other books and online sources were also referenced.
<figure id="attachment_441201" class="wp-caption alignnone" style="width: 960px;" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-441201"><a href="#" data-ident_hash="b142317a"><img src="https://res.cloudinary.com/fridaydigital/image/private/t_article_image/wpmedia/2025/10/9740f4bc3356ab2f491a6f7828bbc55b.jpg" alt=""></a><figcaption id="caption-attachment-441201" class="wp-caption-text">A bold delivery health (deriheru) poster with an oversized phone number prominently displayed. Still, the placement of the poster seems unusually high. (Ishinomaki, Miyagi Prefecture, ’05)</figcaption></figure>

 Akira Ikoma

 This is the second installment of sex industry journalist Akira Ikoma's serial article, "27 Years of Deli Hell: A History. The end of the 1990s and the beginning of the '00s were the most profitable period for the deli-hel service. Its low entry hurdles made it a popular business, and its number increased dramatically.

Inside Japan’s Delivery Health Boom: How Some Made Fortunes While Phones Never Stopped Ringing

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