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passenger seat. It was a weekday in late August, and the westbound lanes on the Chuo Expressway were practically empty. The sky was clear and blue, and once they’d passed Lake Sagami they could see the profile of a snowless Mount Fuji. ‘He doesn’t seem to like her much, even though she’s the one who feeds him every day.’
        They’d bought Gangsta at a neighbourhood pet shop five years ago. Before that they’d had a dachshund, and when Ryoko was alive a Scottish terrier. Shige had chosen and named the beagle, but being a kid of shifting enthusiasms he soon relinquished to Rie-san the pleasure of feeding him twice a day, and Aoyama was the one who usually took the dog out for walks. But Shige still thought of Gangsta as his.
        ‘What do you mean?’ Aoyama said. ‘They’re always playing together in the yard.’
        He was in a complex but elated mood. Yoshikawa had laid the groundwork for the audition with dazzling speed and an almost baffling fervour. He’d told Aoyama that the radio programme had been approved in no time. And now it was already on the air.
        ‘My own team did all the planning,’ Yoshikawa had said. ‘The title is Tomorrow’s Heroine , just like I said at first – what a laugh, eh?’
        He had gone on to describe the female personality hosting the show as a thirty-something jazz singer just back from a long stint in the US, and said that the idea of disclosing the movie’s storyline bit by bit had gone over big and the ratings were excellent.
        ‘I thought I was indebting myself to Yokota, but the numbers are so good that he ended up thanking me . Most of the young guys on my team are movie fanatics, so the project has developed momentum all by itself. They’re taking meetings with major distributors and potential investors every day, and the radio scripts are getting written without me even having to ask. It’s taken on a life of its own – so much so that it’s got to the point where people might wonder why you should be at the audition. So here’s my idea. Remember that documentary you were telling me about, that you did in collaboration with German TV a while ago? About a ballerina with a bad back and her wealthy patron, and an autistic boy, wasn’t it? We could use that as the basis for our story, and then it would be perfectly natural for you to be one of the producers. Besides, it’s a story with a lot of potential. In addition to finding the perfect bride for you, it’s possible we could actually end up making a movie and pocketing a good chunk of change. Of course, if everything went that well, the gods would probably have to compensate by frying us all, but . . . Anyway, the programme’s only aired three times so far, but get this: we’ve already received over two thousand applications. Two thousand women to choose your bride from. The wide age-range doesn’t hurt, but, you know something? Maybe having an ulterior motive is the way to go when you want to get a film made.’
        ‘Gangsta may not look it,’ Shige said, ‘but he’s pretty delicate and sensitive. Kind of like, bashful. He doesn’t warm up to just anybody. And Rie-san can be fairly rough around the edges, right? Like the way she’s always breaking those expensive dishes Mum bought?’
        ‘It’s just three days. I’m sure they’ll both survive.’
        Before setting out, Shige had rented videos of ten or twelve war films and packed them, along with an eighteen-inch TV with a built-in VCR, in the trunk of the car. He was saying something about the Viet Cong now, but Aoyama wasn’t doing a very good job of listening. All he could really think about were the two thousand applicants. Two thousand was a figure he couldn’t even get his mind around, but it lent him a euphoric sense of unlimited possibility. How different this was from his mood that summer after Ryoko’s death! All he’d been thinking as he made the drive that summer was that he mustn’t let