The Rise of note, and Why Substack Is Entering Japan at the Right Time

I was walking through Kyoto Gyoen with Roberto, my 10-year-old Italian Greyhound (highly intelligent), a couple of weeks ago. We were engaged in a conversation about something I desperately needed to talk about: the relationship between creators and platforms seems to be changing again.

To be fair, I was carrying most of the discussion. Roberto had become distracted by a pigeon and was conducting what appeared to be a very important investigation. Still, the point stood. For years, creators have obsessed over what to publish. Blog posts, newsletters, videos, podcasts, social posts. The assumption was that content itself was the main challenge. Now the more interesting question seems to be where that content should live. And this brings note and Substack.

Over the past few years, social media (or “SNS” in Japan) has increasingly become a place where everything flows past at high speed. Endless posts appear and disappear (and re-appear…), algorithms decide visibility, and creators often feel pressured to constantly produce in order to remain visible at all. Particularly on X, there’s a growing sense of fatigue. Do you feel it?

Of course, X is still one of the central spaces of Japanese internet culture. As a place for observing mood, trends, reactions, and social temperature, it remains incredibly powerful. But recently, there also seems to be a growing feeling of: “Is it really safe to build everything here?”

At the same time, AI-generated content has exploded. Platforms that once felt human now sometimes feel closer to an endless stream of content fragments. Opinions move faster, posts become shorter (or unusually longer), and increasingly, visibility itself feels algorithmically generated.

In response, more people seem to be searching for something slightly slower. More intentional and stable perhaps. A place where people can still write properly. And perhaps more importantly, a place where people can still read properly.

That’s partly why the rise of note, and now the quiet emergence of Substack in Japan, feels so interesting.

Outside Japan, note is sometimes described as “Japan’s Medium” or “Japan’s Substack.” But culturally, it evolved into something quite different.

I think note succeeded in Japan not simply because of its features, but because of the atmosphere it created. There’s a certain softness to note. Less performative pressure. Less visible competition. Less emphasis on virality. The platform encourages people to spend time reading someone’s thoughts rather than simply reacting to them.

Even the language feels different. The button is not called “Like.” It’s called “スキ” (“Suki”). That subtle difference matters more than it initially appears.

“Like” feels active and public. “スキ” feels softer and even more genuine, if you like. Slightly more personal and less performative. That emotional distance feels very Japanese.

And in Japan, there are many people who quietly consume content without visibly engaging with it. They do not always comment. They may never repost anything. They might not publicly react at all. But they read carefully. They save posts. Revisit articles later. Search for them again months afterwards.

I remember speaking with an overseas client once about a Japan focused campaign. They were worried because engagement numbers appeared lower than expected. But in Japan, invisible interest is extremely common. People often move quietly.

note matched that behaviour unusually well.

And the scale it eventually reached is enormous. The platform surpassed 10 million registered users in 2025, while monthly active users reportedly exceeded 70 million. It is now used not only by individuals, but also by companies, universities, and local governments across Japan.

What’s especially interesting is that note no longer feels like “just a blogging platform.” It increasingly feels closer to a piece of Japanese publishing infrastructure.

AI platforms seem to love picking brains from note as it’s packed with real stories based on unique human experiences.

Companies use it for recruitment storytelling. Brands use it for softer editorial content. Municipalities use it for local communication. Universities use it for public-facing writing.

And interestingly, many companies sound more human once they start writing on note.

The tone changes. Less corporate. Less polished. Less aggressively optimised. More thoughtful. More observational. More personal.

That says something quite important about Japanese digital culture. In Japan, excessive self-promotion often creates distance. But quiet enthusiasm tends to travel surprisingly far.

Many note users never used note alone. In practice, people often used X and note together.

X became the place to observe someone’s atmosphere. Their personality, humour, emotional tone and their unique way of thinking.

Once trust or curiosity formed, people would move to note to read more deeply. In many ways, X became the entrance, while note became the depth. That flow feels very Japanese to me.

Generally speaking, people don’t jump immediately into deep trust online in Japan. There’s usually a long observation stage first. People watch: What kind of person is this? Do they feel trustworthy? Are they constantly chasing attention? Do they feel emotionally stable? Would I want to keep reading them long term? Much of this happens subconsciously.

note functioned extremely well as the “after observation” platform. And unlike social media posts, note articles have much longer lifespans. An X post disappears within hours. A note article may still be discovered through search months or years later. Much like text version of YouTube long form.

In fact, one of note’s strengths has been its search visibility and long-tail reading behaviour. Many articles continue generating readership long after publication.

That “stored knowledge” feeling matters. Especially in Japan, where people often revisit and re-evaluate information carefully over time.

Recently, though, another platform has started appearing within this ecosystem: Substack, of course. Japanese people are now calling it “Substa (sabu-suta)” and getting rather cozy with it.

What’s interesting is that Substack doesn’t feel like a direct replacement for note. It feels like something else entirely.

When you actually use it, it feels as though several different internet cultures have been merged together: part social platform, part blog, part newsletter, part community, part independent media tool.

It also seems to be resonating with people who are tired of algorithm dependent platforms. Substack strongly emphasises the feeling of “owning your audience.” That idea matters to us, the algorithm fatigued.

On social media, even large follower counts don’t guarantee visibility anymore. Posts may or may not appear. Algorithms mediate the relationship between creator and audience. But with Substack, the relationship feels more direct. The email arrives. The audience belongs to the creator. The connection feels less temporary.

That has become increasingly valuable.

Globally, Substack reportedly surpassed 5 million paid subscriptions, while continuing to grow rapidly. (I hope the number is correct)

And after strengthening localisation and Japanese language support in 2026, the platform suddenly began attracting far more attention in Japan.

Japanese creators with existing audiences on X started experimenting with it. Some gained thousands of subscribers within short periods of time (Ikehaya, for example).

But I don’t think this is only about platform functionality. It’s also about timing.

Currently Japan still seems full of people with burning desire, still wanting to create and write, but tired of algorithm.

Substack arrived at a great psychological moment.

The more I look at the two platforms, the more I think they fulfil different emotional roles.

note feels like a place where people exist online. Substack feels more like a place where people intentionally gather readers. note feels closer to a long form social platform. Substack feels closer to independent publishing.

There are also so many accounts on note sharing “how to write with AI and earn money on note”. This isn’t something original note users want to see. AI is allowing people to write fast based on data.

note is highly searchable. Substack is highly deliverable. note performs well inside Japanese search behaviour and long-tail discovery. Substack, meanwhile, is built around direct email distribution, with newsletter open rates often reported around 30–40%. One is discovered. The other arrives.

That distinction may become increasingly important in an internet environment flooded with endless searchable content (or AI written searchable content I should say).

I find it particularly interesting how carefully Substack seems to be approaching Japan.

It doesn’t appear to be trying to aggressively “defeat” note. Instead, it seems positioned around a different emotional space: independent media, direct readership, and ownership of audience relationships.

In Japan, platforms often spread sideways before they spread outward. People don’t adopt new platforms simply because of advertising. They adopt them because someone they trust starts using them first. Then FOMO kicks in (remember “clubhouse”?). And that’s exactly how Substack currently appears to be spreading. Through creator migration, peer observation, recommendation networks on X. Even on note itself.

At first glance, Japan may not seem like an ideal market for subscription based publishing because Japanese users are cautious. They don’t always subscribe impulsively. They observe carefully first, then evaluate consistency over time.

But at the same time, Japan has extremely strong cultures of long term support. Fan/community culture and perhaps even “推し (oshi)” culture.

Japan often values depth over scale such as smaller but stronger relationships or longer but quieter forms of support. People may not visibly react every day but they continue reading, following and supporting.

That behavioural pattern actually aligns well with Substack’s model. Which makes me wonder whether Substack’s future in Japan may not resemble a mass social platform at all. It may instead become something closer to a network of smaller, high-trust reader communities.

And in an era increasingly dominated by AI generated content, endless short form videos, and algorithmic feeds, that kind of slower relationship may become more valuable and others perhaps less so.

So perhaps what we’re seeing now is not really a competition between blogging platforms.

それでは良い週末を👋

Kana