The tiny bridge spanned a plastic river. American and Japanese minifigures faced each other across it, rifles raised, frozen in their eternal standoff.
Private Tanaka stepped forward. "Wait."
The Japanese soldier across from him—Sato—lowered his rifle. "Why should I?"
"Because I remember now. Before the simulation. We were enemies. But we're also... something else."
Sato's plastic face seemed to soften. "I remember too. The beach. The fire. The boy who offered water."
Tanaka nodded. "That was me."
They met in the middle of the bridge, two tiny soldiers from opposite sides, a
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