When Akio Toyoda became president of Toyota in June last year, he promised to steer it through its "worst crisis in a century".
He was referring, of course, to the global recession, which had left the carmaker with the first annual loss in its 73-year-history. The only consolation was that Toyota's pain was being felt across the global auto industry, and most acutely by its rivals in the US.
Nine months on, as he prepares to go before a US congressional committee to account for Toyota's handling of the safety recall of more than 8.5m cars, the 53-year-old chief executive must look back with strange affection on the days when his only concern was the bottom line.
It is no secret that some of his US inquisitors see the hearings in Washington on Wednesday as an opportunity to subject Toyoda to a dressing down in the full glare of the world's media.
While the substance of Toyoda's defence is known only to him and his closest advisers, there is little in his background to suggest that there is a committee room drama in the offing.
As the grandson of Toyota's founder, Kiichiro Toyoda, his chief qualification for becoming the company's youngest-ever president is his pedigree.
Well before the recall crisis cast doubt on his leadership abilities, the Japanese media was fond of calling him "the prince". But when it took him a fortnight to summon the courage to face the public after the recall of millions of cars with potentially faulty accelerators, more unkind commentators invented a new moniker: no-show Akio.
Yet in many ways Toyoda is no different from any other Japanese CEO. He has been a loyal, quietly diligent servant of the company he joined as a junior manager in 1984, and was singled out last year for his managerial skills, rather than the media-savvy guile expected of chief executives in other countries.
But the qualities that made him a candidate for the presidency of one of Japan's most conservative companies now seem wholly inadequate.
Toyoda was pilloried for his halting English during a recent press conference – although he speaks the language well – and even for not executing a deep enough bow.
His initial refusal to appear before Congress was interpreted as aloofness, when in fact he was probably right in insisting Toyota's senior US executives were better placed to respond to congressional cross-examination.
That said, his stumbling public performances of late belie years of exposure to overseas business culture.
He has lived in London and New York, led the firm's operations in China and served as head of the New United Motor Manufacturing plant, Toyota's doomed joint venture with General Motors in California.
Colleagues describe him as approachable and eager to play down his family background. He is said to make unannounced visits to assembly lines and dealerships, and until recently shared his infatuation for cars and racing on his blog.
Last year he was part of a team that drove his company's Lexus LF-A supercar at the challenging 24-hour endurance race at Germany's Nurburgring, finishing a creditable fourth in their class.
Toyoda graduated with a law degree from Keio, a prestigious private university, and gained a master's degree in business administration from Babson College in the US. His working life began outside the family firm, but his background made his elevation to president inevitable.
He is the first member of the founding family to lead Japan's biggest carmaker since his uncle, Tatsuro, stepped down in 1995; Akio's father, Shoichiro, ran Toyota throughout most of the 80s and into the early 90s.
After his appointment, Toyoda said he wanted to reconnect with customers and produce cars they could "fall in love with". For now, though, he will be happy if his testimony helps prevent a messy and expensive estrangement.
