Abilities: Machi is primarily a talented pianist, but he is actually musically talented in general, although he's never played any other instrument or even tried to learn one, and he still holds his greatest affinity for the piano. He almost certainly has perfect pitch, and is possessed of very sensitive hearing--hypersensitive, possibly, but either way he is basically a gifted and perceptive kid, very smart and hardworking in certain circumstances. His history expands on this a bit. Given an unfamiliar instrument and a basic demonstration (or even without one), he could mostly likely familiarise himself and learn out how to play quickly--which is to say, in a matter of minutes or hours (depending on whether it's a guitar or a theremin or a didgeridoo--the more obtuse the instrument, the longer it'd take.) He's also extremely adaptable--maybe too adaptable--and more than clever enough to take advantage of it.

First Person: [In using the watch, Machi has only ever attempted video, and in this, at least, nothing has changed. The image is dominated by a pair of large reflective sunglasses, which cover the small, serious face of a child. The round face is framed by blond hair.]

Trucy? Yaeson?

[His young voice comes with a thick accent, and absolutely butchers the name 'Jason.' He hesitates for a few seconds.

Then, more cautiously, he adds another name.]

...

Phoenix Wright?

[An even longer pause. It's almost a full minute. Finally and very grudgingly:]

.....Integra?

[That's it. That's the video.

Welcome back, Machi Tobaye.]

Third Person: Machi woke to the loud, steady, rocking rhythm of the train. It was not a gradual waking, either; the train woke him all at once, and with awareness came all the memories and events he'd lost--good and bad. Mostly bad.

He was still in the distinctive blue and white striped uniform of the Los Angeles prison complex. This was hardly shocking: he'd been sitting in his cell just... whenever he'd been there, before the train. What was rather more unexpected was the presence of a warm weight on his lap...courtesy of the furry black and white body of a spotted skunk. Alerted by his movement, the skunk stirred, stretching up to press a cold pink nose up against Machi's face.

"No!" He pushed the creature away agitatedly, but it was unfazed; planting its forepaws against his stomach, it tried again, long claws digging painfully into his side.

"Get OFF," he shoved the skunk harder, this time forcing it off his lap entirely. He was already half-panicked; the insistent attentions of a pound and a half of nosy mammal were not helping. The skunk landed uneventfully at his feet, where it began to sniff unconcernedly at the floor. He pushed it further away with one foot, eliciting a disgruntled grumbling.

The skunk--named Kashkash--was actually prison property. She'd been forcibly assigned to him as part of a mandatory program in which every prisoner was given a pet for which they were responsible. The idea--as Machi understood it, which was poorly--was that partnership with an animal was somehow supposed to somehow be good for him. This might have been a good idea except that Machi had two feelings about animals: discomfort and nervousness. In the case of some animals, dogs especially, this was elevated to actual fear. He was given no say in this decision, however, nor in any others related to it; he just had to deal with it, and it had become yet another unhappy fact of life: wherever he went, there she was. Kashkash followed him endlessly--a furry unwanted shadow that tried to eat his food and wanted to sleep on his legs. Last time, the animal had been left behind by whatever forces had taken him onto the train to begin with. This time, however, Kashkash had apparently been included--

And just a few short minutes later, the train pulled into its station, squealing gradually to an ungentle stop.