‘Back in ancient Greece,’ Mr Akino began, twirling a pen around his index finger, ‘learning was divided into two areas – astronomy and music. In other words, if you studied both astronomy and music you could shine a light on anything in the world. That’s what they believed back then.’

‘I see.’

‘Music was one part of the twin foundations, Tomura.’

So in ancient Greece they saw the world as being constructed from astronomy and music. That sounds like a splendid world to live in, although my memory of ancient Greece was that they were fighting battles with each other all the time.

‘Do you know how many constellations there are?’

I shook my head and Mr Akino gave a triumphant little smirk.

‘That would be eighty-eight.’

Now that he mentioned it, I remembered thinking it was strange when we studied the constellations in science at school. You could connect up the prominent stars, see them as forming a shape and name them. But scattered among them were other smaller stars you could also make out with the naked eye. You couldn’t just ignore them and come up with those other shapes, could you? It was pretty outrageous to settle on only eighty-eight constellations out of all the countless stars in the sky, infinite as the grains of sand by the sea or in the endless deserts of our planet.

In a way, though, I could see how astronomy and music could be considered fundamental to understanding the world. You extract some stars from all the countless ones and make them into constellations. Tuning is similar. You select things of beauty that have dissolved into the fabric of the world. You gingerly extract that beauty, careful not to damage it, and then you make it visible.

Seven sounds – do, re, mi, fa, so, la, ti, do, or twelve if you include semitones – are teased out, named, and then they sparkle just like the constellations. And it’s the tuner’s job to pick these out with precision from the vast ocean of sound, arrange them delicately and make them resonate.

‘Tomura-kun! Are you listening?’ Head in hands, Mr Akino stared at me across the desk, looking somewhat put out. ‘The number of constellations: eighty-eight. It’s the same number as the keys on a piano.’

‘Ohh.’

‘A legacy from the twin pillars of Greek civilization, astronomy and music.’

‘Now hold it right there, Mr Akino.’ Miss Kitagawa interrupted him, seemingly unable to let that comment pass by unremarked. ‘Don’t you go spouting any more of your nonsense. Tomura-kun will start to believe you.’

‘Nonsense?’ Mr Akino shrugged and looked away.