Japan's egg prices hit record highs as feed costs and avian flu fears mount

At a supermarket in Tokyo's Nerima ward on a Tuesday in early October, a carton of ten medium eggs cost 268 yen before tax—roughly two dollars and sixteen cents. That price, unremarkable to anyone outside Japan, represents something closer to a rupture in a country where eggs have long been the quiet anchor of the grocery basket, reliable and cheap. By mid-September, the national average had climbed to 309 yen per carton, matching the highest price ever recorded in Japan's official surveys. The Agriculture, Forestry and Fisheries Ministry had tracked this figure across 470 stores nationwide, and the number sat there like a warning.

A woman in her forties stood in that Nerima supermarket and made a small calculation. She used to buy eggs once a week. Now she didn't. The math had changed. She was not alone. Across the country, consumers were making the same quiet decision—fewer eggs, or none at all. The supermarket itself was caught in a different bind. Every Sunday, management offered a promotion: ten eggs for 88 yen, including tax. It was a loss leader, a way to keep customers coming through the door. But the losses were real. Hiromichi Akiba, the supermarket's president, put it plainly: the store bled money on eggs throughout the year. They compensated by cutting advertising and adjusting labor costs, a slow erosion of margins to hold the line on a single product.

The root cause was not mysterious. Feed prices had climbed steadily, driven by geopolitical turbulence in the Middle East and a weakening yen that made imported grain more expensive to buy. The National Federation of Agricultural Cooperative Associations, which supplies feed to producers, had raised its prices four quarters in a row. For October through December alone, the increase averaged about 3,200 yen per tonne. Each quarterly review brought another hike. Producers passed the cost forward. Retailers absorbed what they could. Consumers paid or went without.

But the real anxiety in the industry was not about the present. It was about what winter might bring. Japan had experienced avian influenza outbreaks for six consecutive seasons since 2020. During the 2022 season alone, 17.71 million birds were culled—a catastrophe that triggered what the industry called an "egg shock." Businesses suspended sales. Manufacturers discontinued entire product lines. The memory was fresh enough that industry officials watched the calendar with dread as the season approached. Winter was peak demand season, when eggs moved through the food system in volume. An outbreak now could compound the price crisis into something far worse.

The largest industrial users of eggs were already moving. Kewpie, which consumes roughly 250,000 tonnes annually, had begun diversifying its supply chains. Since 2023, the company had purchased imported eggs from Brazil even during periods when domestic supplies were stable—a hedge against future shock. Ifuji Sangyo, a major producer of liquid egg products, had set a target to increase its annual sales of frozen and liquid eggs from approximately 67,000 tonnes to 80,000 tonnes by March 2031. Frozen eggs could be stored for extended periods, creating a buffer. Producer organizations and private companies were exploring shared storage facilities and cost-sharing arrangements, with plans to compile recommendations by the end of the fiscal year in March 2027.

The government was considering vaccination programs against avian influenza, a measure that Seiji Nobuoka, a former professor at Tokyo University of Agriculture, argued was necessary. Biosecurity measures alone—the protocols farms already followed—had limits. Vaccination offered a different kind of protection, one that might prevent the culls that had devastated supply before. But the decision had not yet been made, and winter was coming. The egg, that most basic and stable of foods, had become a barometer of fragility: vulnerable to geopolitics, disease, and the slow compression of margins that left no room for shock.