Join us in a mail order adventure half a year in the making.

Mr. Sato’s sweat-soaked fists clenched at he stared straight at the red pedestrian crossing lights. On the other side of the street stood two Tokyo Police officers eyeing him and talking to each other. Mr. Sato had been stopped on the street by the police many times before, but this time was different.

This time he was dressed head to toe in a state-of-the-art skin-tight custom-made Zozosuit with polka dots all over.

It all started in November of 2017. It was a simpler time, before people sent sports cars to Mars and took Kim Jong-un seriously. It was also when a much younger, much more naive Mr. Sato heard about a new promotion by Japan’s leading mail-order clothing retailer, Zozotown.

In an unprecedented move, the company had developed the Zozosuit, a cybernetic outfit designed to automatically and instantly provide the wearer with precise measurements and ensure a perfect fit. Best of all: Zozotown was giving them away totally free!

Mr. Sato quickly placed an order, not because he was curious about his waistline, but because the suits also looked cool as all hell. They were like something out of the popular sci-fi manga, anime, movie series Gantz.

In this day and age, we’ve all gotten accustomed to the speedy delivery of online orders. So when several days had passed and no Zozosuit arrived, Mr. Sato began to get nervous. Not too nervous though; these suits were custom made and since they were free, Zozotown was probably flooded with orders, mucking up the works more than usual.

It was a small price to pay for a free suit and gave Mr. Sato a chance to prepare by revisiting the Gantz franchise.

Days turned to weeks, and weeks turned to months, and by the end of January, Mr. Sato got a surprise notice from Zozotown. Although the suit was free, he had originally paid 524 yen (US$4.71) for shipping. But now, that money was refunded to him without any explanation.

The thousands of other empty-handed would-be Gantz cosplayers also took to social media to ask what the hell was going on and caused Zozotown to issue a statement. They said that the refund was a standard procedure wherein if any delivery wasn’t made after two months then the charge would be automatically returned to the customer.

However, they assured everyone that the suits were still being produced and would be sent when they were ready. The delivery charge would be applied again at that time.

So, it was back to the waiting game.

A few more weeks passed and, while some reports of people getting their Zozosuits trickled in over Twitter and Facebook, most were beginning to rethink their interest in this giveaway. Some opened up their Zozotown account in hopes to cancel their order. However, another surprise came when they saw that the cancel button was disabled, only for Zozosuits.

Once again, Zozotown had to publicly explain that because Zozosuits were custom-made and all in the process of being made, they couldn’t be canceled. In other words, everyone who ordered one would have to stand by their commitment and wait for an unspecified amount of time longer.

Finally, in May of this year, Mr. Sato got some unexpected good news from Zozotown. His suit was made and would be delivered shortly. Even better, they had made improvements to the suit’s design which would make it even more accurate at measuring his size!

The actual measuring ability of the suit was secondary for Mr. Sato, but it was great news nonetheless. He scrolled down to an image of the new suit and…

▼ Oh….

▼ Em…herm….

Gone was the sleek and cool Gantz design, and in its place was something a Dr. Seuss villain might wear as he attempted to steal the crumbfumblers of Zozotown with his amazing snuzzfuzzuller.

Did Zozotown run out of material? Was there some critical design flaw in the original suit that caused all the delays and led to this complete overhaul? It didn’t matter. Mr. Sato’s polkadot tech was on its way regardless, and there was nothing he could do about it.

On the day of its arrival, Mr. Sato was still relatively excited. Although it looked exactly the opposite of what he had hoped for, it was still a neat gadget and he looked forward to trying it out.

The suit consisted of a top and pants that hooked around the hands and feet to ensure tightness. All over both pieces where white circles that would allow the dedicated smartphone app to make the necessary measurements.

By putting his phone in the special Zozosuit stand and placing it on a table about 70 centimeters (27.5 inches) in height. Mr. Sato stood in front of the camera and slowly rotated 30 degrees at a time while the phone took pictures of him.

It wasn’t quite as futuristic as he envisioned, and honestly a bit of a pain in the butt to do, but it gave him a detailed readout of his measurements as promised.

▼ In case anyone out there wants to send Mr. Sato the gift of clothing. You’re all set!

The measuring was a bit of a bust but that’s okay; again it was only the secondary purpose of getting the Zozosuit. Mr. Sato’s prime objective was to go on futuristic Gantz-like adventures!

He went to a bowling ball in the office closet to receive his assignment: He was to track down and eliminate a Starbucks drink, with extra points awarded if he could knock off one of those cajun chicken sandwiches too.

And so, nearly six months to the day from ordering his Zozosuit, Mr. Sato was en route to his first cybergothic mission. However, there were two police officers in his path who threatened to end his fun before it even started.

The light turned green and Mr. Sato began to walk while desperately avoiding eye contact with the cops.

The sounds of Tokyo deafened around him and he could only hear his heart beat as he crossed paths with the lawmen…

▼ [heartbeats]

▼ [heartbeats]

▼ [heartbeats]

▼ [heartbeats]

He was safe.

With the threat narrowly averted, Mr. Sato continued on to his objective and ordered a drink from his local Starbucks.

The staff and other customers seemed unfazed by the Zozosuit. Perhaps it wasn’t so weird after all.

Or perhaps everyone there had just gotten used to Mr. Sato by now, after he had previously come in wearing a USB-powered pollen blocker hood, camouflage ghille suit, cardboard box, and cardboard mannequin, as well as carrying a 20-pound mug that one time.

His first mission was a success, and who knows what adventures lay in store for our Zozosuit-wearing reporter?

▼ Watching Mr. Sato dispatch with this drink is too disgustingly violent, even by Gantz standards, so we omitted it

All in all it was a valuable experience for Mr. Sato. Zozotown had pushed his ability to follow golden rules such as “beggars can’t be choosers” and “don’t look a gift horse in the mouth” to their very limits.

Photos: SoraNews24
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